


Kookie Cassie

by monsic_buffoon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little bit of self harm, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other, crazy!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsic_buffoon/pseuds/monsic_buffoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending nine and a half months away at Cloudy Falls Mental Institution, Castiel is finally coming home again. This is his second chance at a normal life, and he's trying his best not to screw it up. However, the task may prove more difficult than initially expected. (Crazy Cas/High School AU, with Destiel of course)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Archive or Our Own story, but I've already started publishing this one on fanfitcion.net. It seems to be doing pretty well on there, so please give me a shot. Hope you like it, please enjoy.

"How is your medication working?" her voice is low, carrying the same soothing lull as always. The one that's supposed to make him focus, but all it ever does is make him sleepy.

"Good," he answers. Tells her what she wants to hear, he's getting better, just like she promised he would.

"And your exercises?" Another question. Inquiring about his daily jog around the garden. The one she recommended, it'll reduce the negative symptoms. For one he actually likes the jogging, it's more relaxing then the group sessions, more natural than the medication. He likes the garden too, a privilege he earned a while back. The grass there is greener than the grass at home, but the flowers are similar. They remind him of Anna. How he used to take her by the hand, and they would go out back to smell them.

"Are they helping?" He's taking to long to answer, she's getting impatient. Funny how she can sound so intimidating yet so calm at the same time.

"Yes."

"And how are you?"

He looks away, watches his fingers play with the frayed edges of his hoodie sleeve. It's a loaded question. She's not asking about him, she's asking about the voices. Are they silent? Have they let him go? Can he function like a normal person yet?

"How are you feeling?"

They're not gone completely, but they're quieter, hushed whispers skimming over his earlobe, but he can ignore that. So he's better then. He's good.

On the other hand, there was the incident at group. He'd heard Al. Al had said something, had mocked him. Called him 'Kookie Cassie', just like in the old days. But that was impossible because Al wasn't there. Al was at home, like a normal person.

"Castiel?"

He blinks, breaks out of the trance, "I'm good."

She's talking again. Rambling on about something, but he doesn't listen. He's heard it all a hundred times before. Take your medication, it will help. Do your exercises, they will help. Keep it up Castiel you're doing really well. Until, finally she say something new, something unexpected. He looks up startled, because she's rarely ever said it before.

"What?" Surely he'd miss heard. He'd imagined it, wouldn't be so unusual.

But she's smiling at him, nice and soft, "Your mother is coming over tomorrow."

"To see me?" he asks, feeling odd. Should he be happy? He doesn't feel happy.

"Yes Castiel, she's taking you home. We're letting you go," Then she stretches her hand over the desk and places it over his. He fights the instinct to jump away and lets her hold him.

...

The car is the same. Sleek and grey on the outside. Spotless and leather on the inside.

His mother is the same. Prim suit without a crease, expression stern and solid. She'd tried to put him in the backseat like an invalid. Doctor Mills, there to see him off, suggested otherwise.

"Treat him like he's normal," she'd murmured quietly into her ear. He wasn't supposed to hear, but he did anyway. Always hearing things he's not supposed to hear.

Now he's in the front seat, hands folded in his lap, forehead pressed against the window. Like a normal person. He likes watching the trees flick by along the highway. Likes that he can no longer see Cloudy Falls Mental Institution in the rearview mirror. Likes that he's never gonna have to follow the instructions of a bullshit orderly ever again. That is, if he doesn't mess up again.

"We're having beef for dinner tonight," his mother says, not taking her eyes off the road. It's the first thing she's said to him since the hospital. He doesn't really understand why she bothers. Never did in the past.

"Okay." Maybe Doctor Mills suggested it.

"Michael said he'll stop by. He wants to see you." She'd listen to Doctor Mills.

"Okay." Would scrub him down from head to toe with a cabbage leaf if Doctor Mills said it would help.

"You'll start school again on Monday," She sounds hesitant. Maybe she should be. Who knows when his next psychotic break will happen. Best if it wasn't in public.

Doctor Mills probably suggested school as well, wants him to feel as 'normal' as possible. What other reason was there, he'd missed to much to pass the year anyway.

"Okay, Mom."

The rest of the journey is silent. For the most part.

...

Anna, Gabriel, and Rachel are all standing on the front porch when they pull in. A banner is flailing between his brother and his maid as they cheer for him when he steps out of the car. 'Welcome Home Cas!' They're beaming at him and it makes him smile. The first time he's done so since Crowley stabbed a nurse with a fork at lunch time.

Arms envelope him in hugs and he's not even halfway up the drive way. He almost forgets to feel uncomfortable as they invade his personal space.

...

The only notable difference since his departure is that Anna's taller than Gabriel. Something that makes Anna erupt in giggles, and Gabriel pout when he points it out. Other than that everything is the same. The house is the same, the furniture is the same, his room is the same. Gabriel still likes to joke (he's particularly fond of the monograms stitched into all of Cas' clothes), Anna's hair is still a vibrant red, Rachel's eyes are still kind. When Michael arrives later that evening, he still has that same air of superiority.

...

Dinner starts out nicer than it ends. Michael talks about his life in Kansas University. He has a girlfriend now. Anna talks about her art class, and how Mrs Barns says she's her best student. She has a boyfriend now. Gabriel talks about the school baseball team and how they haven't lost a game yet this season. He doesn't have a girlfriend, but apparently that's not stopping him from getting laid. Judging from the face she makes their mother doesn't approve of these habits, but it makes Castiel smile.

Finally when everyone is done catching him up a wary silence falls over them. He's the only one who hasn't told any stories yet, but they don't want to push him into any repressed memories.

They know, a distinguishable whisper speaks up, They know you're a freak.

He ignores it. Cuts a bite of his stake.

"So, bro," of course, if anyone were to break the silence.

"Gabriel, don't talk with your mouth full," A warning from the mother, blatantly ignored.

"What was it like in the cuckoo's nest?"

Everyone tenses, holding their forks the slightest bit tighter.

Castiel looks up from his plate, blue eyes calm. Then shrugs, "I made a friend."

Gabriel chortles, "Oh yeah? What's that like?"

"Gabriel," she sounds stern, but she's ignored again. Anna and Michael exchange looks.

"Her name's Meg. She thinks she's a demon, and that my other friend, Crowley, 's out to get her." Rachel comes out from the kitchen and starts collecting the empty plates. He slides his fork through what's left of his mashed potatoes.

"Hmm," Gabriel hums, leaning forward onto one elbow, "Was he?"

Castiel shrugs again, "Maybe. Crowley has temper issues. He punched me once."

This starts Anna, her wide brown eyes get even wider, "Why?!"

"Well, to be fair I punched him first."

Gabriel starts laughing again, and Michael looks a bit calmer now that he knows his brother isn't going to go nuclear all over the dinner table. Even Rachel is smiling a little as she walks around the table. Their mother however looks less than thrilled.

"Why'd you punch him?" Gabriel asks through his laughing.

"He kissed me, and I didn't like it. Then Meg called us Fags."

Gabriel's laughter dies, and everyone else stops smiling.

"It's okay though, Doctor Mills fixed the whole physical contact problem. I don't punch people for touching me anymore."

Very abruptly Naomi Milton stands up from her spot at the table, and sends a glare at each of them, especially Gabriel, "Rachel, we're finished with dinner."

Then she walks away, leaving her children in an awkward silence. Castiel looks down at his lap, feeling guilty.

_You fucked it up again, Cassie._

...

They finish up the night with a walk around the neighborhood. Just the four of them, Castiel, Anna, Gabriel, and Michael. It's nice, like the old times. A breeze runs through the street ruffling his hair, making it even messier.

The weather is just starting to warm up again, but the night air is cool. Castiel feels chilled in his hoodie, but not enough to go back. He'd forgotten how grand their neighborhood really was while he was away. All the large houses illuminated by their ground lights, making them even more dramatic. He'd always enjoyed the houses in his neighborhood, all of them so majestic every one unique.

Then he spots something at then end of the street and stops.

"What's up?" Anna asks. They'd all stopped with him. Looking at him cautiously again. Treating him like a china plate again.

"The Campbell house. Someone's moved in?" For as long as he can remember the house had been empty. It'd always been his favorite. Something about its castle like appearance captivated him. It was the oldest house in the neighborhood. He could feel it's age through the walls, weighing it down like storm cloud.

Anna looks tense, and it's his fault. And the house's. His brothers exchange looks. They all look uncomfortable, he's making them uncomfortable. He understands the emotion of course, why they were feeling it.

"Uh yeah," Michael says finally, before taking Anna by the shoulder and pushing her forward. He ushers them past the house as fast as possible.

...

The next three days go by much faster than any day spent at the hospital. He finally has things to keep him occupied. Books, internet, catching up with Rachel, her kid started elementary school this year. He jogs consistently every morning, eying the now occupied Campbell house each time he runs by. Occasionally he spots movement behind a window.

Michael left back to college the morning after his return. He'd placed a heavy hand onto Castiel's shoulder in goodbye. And Castiel grit his teeth, accepted the farewell. The fact that he'd returned on a Thursday meant that Anna and Gabriel were off schooling as well. This left him alone with Rachel and his mother. They hadn't wanted to leave him alone just yet.

He doesn't mind. His mother sticks mostly to the office space anyway (when she's not busy checking up on him). And Rachel minds her own business.

He wanders the house a little bit, re-familiarizing himself after being away for nine and a half months. He's surprised to find most of the rooms comforting, after spending most of his childhood running away from them. Gabriel's room is messy as always, despite Rachel's struggles. Its large expanse appears much smaller under all of his clutter. On the other hand, there's a lot less pink in Anna's room then there was before. It amuses him what the switch from middle school to high school has done to his sister. She still has plenty of plants though. He spares a moment to sniff one of the flower pots.

He's not sure if going into his mothers room is a good idea, but he goes in anyway. Slower than he does with the other rooms. All the blinds over the windows are closed, casting the room into a grey light. Much like everything other than Gabriel's room, it's neat and clean though he thinks that his mother's room would be clean regardless if Rachel was working for them or not.

He can't help sighing as his eyes scan the room. This room had remained off putting. It makes a shiver crawl up his back. He feels something weird curling inside him as his eyes halt at the creaked door leading to the bathroom. Everything flashes red for a moment.

It's dark in there. Darker than the rest of the rooms. It's colder too. He can feel it. Something cold reaching out and swirling around him. A hand coming towards him to pull him in. Everything flashes red again, like a blood splatter.

Something loud burst in his head and an entire chorus of voices start screaming. One rings clearer than the others.

_GET OUT, CASTIEL!_

The room flashes again and he closes his to breath. Just like Doctor Mills had taught him.

_GET OUT! COVER YOUR EYES!_

The breathing's not working. It's coming out shaky. The yelling continues. Ricocheting off the insides of his mind.

_CASTIEL!_

He hears himself grunt. It's flashing red behind his eyelids now. Like a strobe light, and the chorus is still screaming at him. Calling him. Yelling at him. Warning him.

"Castiel?" a real voice. The others cut off. It's abrupt and he's startled by the quiet.

His eyes shoot open and he spins around to face Rachel, She's standing at the entrance of the room, holding her basket of cleaning supplies. She looks worried, and he knows its his fault. He's causing her to worry. He's not even her son.

"Sorry Rachel," he says as he brushes past her, leaving the room behind. He shouldn't have gone in there.

...

Finally it's Sunday. His last day before school. All of his plans are pushed back because his mother insisted they all go to church that day. That was something he'd forgotten about while at Cloudy Falls. Church wasn't a mandatory activity there.

He never really liked church. Not that he didn't believe in God (not that he did). He also liked the architecture of the church itself so that wasn't a problem either. The aspect of church that he didn't like, was the one person standing at the front of the room teaching them, and commanding them. Imparting onto them knowledge that he believes is false. One singular stranger telling them what to do and what not to do. Castiel had enough strangers, real and imaginary alike, commanding him. He didn't need another one. His mother didn't understand though. She'd long since stopped dragging the other children along, but not him. Still desperately trying to save him, from something.

Father Zachariah is still the head of the church, and he stands at front of the pews wearing the same smarmy smile he always had. Once everyone is seated he starts by singling him out, dedicating the service to him. For a moment everyone stares at Castiel and claps for him, welcome him back home, and wishing him the best. They marvel at Father Zachariah's generosity. How caring he is to everyone, even the local crazy kid. His mother looks straight at him for once, and she's clapping too. Smiling. Buying the act like everyone else.

It's torture, and all Castiel wants is to disappear. He hates all the eyes on him, and someone inside him is hissing. He closes his eyes and tries to will it away.

When he finally gets home he's tired and ready to be alone. He contemplates skipping his jog that day as he flops onto his bed still wearing his Sunday best. Then he thinks of Doctor Mills, reminding him that having a routine is healthy for someone with his problems. That breaking an already established routine could only cause more.

He gets up with a sigh, and walks to his closet pulling out his shorts and a fresh t-shirt. No doubt that the neighborhood is going to be livelier now as well. This meant more unwanted attention for him. Everyone always stares when he's around.

"Have fun," Anna says as he walks by where she's sitting on the couch reading. He waves at her before walking out the door.

He'd been right to assume that people would be out and about. He passes several dog walkers and there are lots of children hanging around, riding their bikes or tossing a ball around. Even hears a lawn mower purring as he passes the Campbell house.

His curiosity bites, and he backtracks. Paces back to the front gate and peaks in, tries to catch a glimpse of the new inhabitant.

The motor sounds louder from this point but he still cant see anyone, for a second he wonders if he'd imagined something again.

Then. The mower cuts off and he tenses.

"Hey!"

Nearly has a heart attack, and tries to find the source of the voice. It had come from inside the gate.

That's when he sees him. Through the gate, standing behind a hedge, leaning on a lawn mower. He's young, with honey colored hair and sweaty clothes. His face is creased, a reaction to the sun most likely. He's staring. Castiel squirms.

"What you looking at," the guy grunts. Castiel looks away, chooses to stare at his sneakers.

"I'm not looking." Stupid.

He hears a snort. Then footsteps. Looks up again, to find a pare of green eyes glaring at him. He's closer to the gate now, face almost pressed to the bars.

"Well what do you want?" He asks. He sounds defensive.

"I was just curious," Castiel says. Choosing the path of honesty, just like Doctor Mills would want him to.

"What the fuck about?"

Castiel blinks, takes in the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. They're prominent on his face, probably from the recently active sun.

"The house, you've moved into it."

The boy's eyebrows furrow, "Yeah no shit, Sherlock."

"No ones lived in it before. I'm just surprised."

"Where the hell have you been this last half a year? Everyone's long since gotten used to us living here." Castiel thinks he sounds funny. The gruff voice doesn't match the sleek body. Like he's purposefully making it deeper to sound manlier.

"I've been away," he tell him. Avoiding the specifics. The idea is appealing. Someone not knowing how cracked he is.

The guy squints his eyes. Then scans him, like he's sizing him up.

Castiel's eyes stray away, back to the house, up the front wall, then to the side. To the large ceramic window, that hadn't been there before.

The guy follows his gaze then nods in understanding. Castiel knows he doesn't.

"So you heard about that then?" He says, turning back to face him.

He knows what he's talking about, but plays dumb anyway, "Heard about what?"

The kid laughs, "You don't know? I thought everyone in this goddamn neighborhood knew. Hell at least twenty of them felt like it was their duty to tell us about it."

"What are you talking about?"

"About a year ago. Some nut snuck in, then jumped out of that window there," he sounds almost proud as he speaks. Like he's glad there's something interesting about his home, "Pushed his sister out with him too. Though, The way I hear it, neither of them got hurt too bad. I've seen the girl, she seems fine. Kind of hot actually, for a ginger."

Castiel fixes his eyes on the other boy. Curious. And he smiles in responce, then gives a not quite apologetic shrug.

"I'm Dean." He says and sticks a hand through the gate. Castiel eyes it, then forces his own hand up to meet his. Dean's grip is tight, and his hands are rough. Castiel lets out a tiny breath to calm himself.

Dean's looking at him expectantly, but he doesn't tell him what he wants to know. Knows he'll be calling him Kookie Cassie along with everyone else very soon. Better to put the day off as long as possible.

"Bye Dean," he says before turning away from the house and running onward, arms rocking at his side.


	2. Back to School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is more :) thank you all for reading. Thank you all for noticing. I shall update more chapters soon, just a bit busy with end of year exams (they are fast approaching and i am attempting, not very successfully to study). Anyway please enjoy, I'd love to know what you think.

The start of school is intimidating. He's wearing all new clothes, at his mother's request.

She'd bought him some knew stuff, so that he didn't have to wear anything with his initials stitched into it. He realizes it was meant as a kindness, but it doesn't quite come off that way. His mother's highly formal sense of style varied greatly from his own relaxed comfortable one. Therefore, on his first day back, he'd been forced to wear a starched light blue button down, rubbing his skin in all the wrong ways, tucked into a pair of creased khakis.

He felt uncomfortable. That was never a good feeling. Especially on the first day of school. Especially for him.

"Welcome back to Hell," Gabriel sighs as they pull into the school parking lot. First time this year for Castiel.

It's still pretty empty. Another kindness for Castiel's part. They'd thought it'd be better to avoid the morning crowd. He still had to go check in at the office, but Anna promised she'd go with him so he doesn't have to worry too much about that. Having Anna around calms him, even if it makes him feel a bit incompetent.

They'd parted with Gabriel with minimal incident then made their way through the mostly empty school to the office. Anna stops him just outside the door, then turns to face him. They stare at each other in silence. He examines her for a second then feels a timid smile curl his lips. She looks even more scared than he feels. This leads him to do something that surprises even himself; he puts his hand to her arm, and gently strokes a thumb over the skin exposed by her t-shirt.

"I'll be alright," he promises.

His sister smiles, though she still doesn't look convinced. Something akin to admiration flashes through her eyes and for a moment he feels like a big brother again. Then of course he remembers why they have to have this conversation in the first place. The moment was short lived.

"Come on," she says, brushing a hand over his shoulder, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt, "Let's do this."

The front desk is being managed by Jo Harvelle. This is a new arrangement, but he knows Jo. She'd been a senior when he was a freshman. She was always part of the nicer crowd. Seeing a familiar face first thing is nice.

"Hey Jo," Anna greets as they walk in, interrupting whatever it is she was doing at the computer.

"Hey Anna," The blonde looks up with a smile, then her eyes flick over to Castiel, and he sees her falter though she tries to hide it, "Hey Castiel! I heard you were coming back."

"Hello Jo," He says, with as much amity as he can muster.

"How- are you?" He hears the question catch in her throat, and he sees that same look on her face. The one that Michael usually wears around him. The cautious one.

 _She's scared of you_ , a voice makes itself known. The first one of the day, _She knows you're a freak._

It had been doubtful that they'd stay quiet today. Of all days.

"He's better," He hears Anna say, and curses himself. He'd gotten too caught up in the voice, forgotten to answer.

"Yes, I'm better," Tries to correct the slip up, though he knows it's too late.

"Oh that's good," Jo breaths, then smiles again. At both of them.

"Anyway, we need all of his papers and stuff. Mom, said they'd give them to us here," Anna takes the reins again after a pause. He realizes too late that he was supposed to be the one to ask. He was supposed to act like a normal person.

 _You're not._ Then laughter. That one had sounded like Crowley.

He takes a deep breath, and tries to calm himself.

"You okay?" Anna asks quietly while Jo shuffles about through her desk looking for whatever it is he needs.

"Yeah," he nods, "Just- I'm fine."

"Okay," Jo says as she swivels back over to them holding several sheets of paper in her hand, "So this is your schedule," She places a white paper on the counter, "This is an order form for all your textbooks, you can take it to the library after school," she places a small pink paper on top of the other one, "And this, is for your teachers," She waves a little blue slip, "All of them need to sign it, and when you have all the signatures, bring it back to me," then she pauses for a second, before explaining, "It's so they recognize your condition, and to alert them of an email they should be receiving today."

"Alright," Castiel says. On time this time. He gathers the papers and skims over them himself.

"Thanks Jo," Anna says.

"Yes, thanks Jo."

"No problem guys, and good luck. Let me know if you have any problems, Castiel," She sends them one more smile before returning to her computer screen.

Anna insists she walk him to his first class. It's not that far from her own apparently. She rambles nervously the whole way, a habit she's had from childhood. Castiel smiles again.

"Give 'em hell," She mutters gently when they arrive outside the classroom. She gives him a long soul searching Anna look before leaving towards her own class.

Nothing special happens first period. He hands the teacher his blue slip. He asks the teacher for a signature. The teacher eyes him with a mix of caution and curiosity. The teacher signs the slip. The teacher hands it back to him. The teacher tells him where to sit. He zones out for the rest of the class period.

The same goes for second period. And third period.

Occasionally in between the regular, someone will come up to him. It's either a face from the past, welcoming him back, or a curious stranger wondering who he is. He doesn't say much to either variety.

Fourth period, several boys from the earlier years try starting a chant of 'Kookie Cassie' but Mr Singer cuts them off before anything can happen. Castiel does his best to ignore the snickers that keep steady throughout the class. He's mostly sure they're fake anyway.

Fifth period is lunch, which brings in a whole new lapse of stress. He hasn't had to deal with this many people at once in a long time. It's startling. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He's holding the packed lunch he'd decided to bring to avoiding the tightly packed lines the buyers have to stand in. The last thing he needed was a freak out because a stranger in the cafeteria got too close to him. Now he's just standing there by the entrance with nothing to do.

Across the room he can see a pack of boys. Al is at the head of them. He looks the same as before, tall and menacing, cruel smile in place. Castiel looks away, and tries not to be noticed. Only a matter of time before they're reacquainted.

Then Gabriel pops up out of nowhere, catching him off guard, but he's happy to see him anyway. A couple of Gabriel's friends hover further behind him. They're looking away, but standing too rigid to look natural. Likely avoiding contact.

"Looks like we have the same lunch, eh bro?" Gabriel says grinning that goofy grin of his.

"Looks like."

Castiel fiddles with the sack in his hands, and looks away. There's a rowdy bunch of kids standing near by and their making him nervous. He's not comfortable at all. Gabriel seems to notice.

"Hey, wanna come sit with us?" He asks, jerking his head back in the direction of his buddies.

Castiel doesn't. Doesn't want to talk to any of Gabriel's friends. They're all part of the baseball team. The same kind that would laugh at him if they weren't fiends with his protective older brother. He doesn't want to stay in the cafeteria either. It's noisy and crowded.

Gabriel seems to be doing that big brother thing he always does where he knows exactly what Castiel is thinking. His expression is softening, "Or, how about I leave those dumb asses behind and we go eat in the court yard. It's nicer there, less people."

Castiel meets his gaze again. Gabriel's face is soft with understanding, "It's fine Gabriel. Stay with your friends. I think I can survive another period on my own."

A loud mocking laugh burst right in his ear, and he jerks his head around to find no one there. Even the rowdy crowd had moved on to stand somewhere else. He feels embarrassed. Doctor Mills had long since taught him to distinguish real from fake. He thought he was done with that. When he turns back around Gabriel looks even more sympathetic than before.

"That's bull, Cas! Who do you think I am to let my baby brother sit by himself at lunch? 'specially on his first day back! You have two options; either we go out to the courtyard together, and find a nice, quiet spot to sit at, or you come sit with me and those mutton heads and we'll have a bit of fun at my usual table."

He knows Gabriel thinks he'll chose the first option, but Castiel doesn't want to bother his brother anymore than necessary. Why should he suffer anymore because of Castiel. He deserved to have a normal life as much as anyone else. If not more.

Castiel sighs in defeat, "Fine."

"Whoopee!" Some how he manages to make even that sound sarcastic.

"Let's go eat with your friends."

"Wait, what?" his eyebrows jump.

"You heard me. Come on," he waits for Gabriel to lead, because there's no way he's approaching a group of jocks without him.

"...Alright," he says, narrowing his eyes before pivoting around and marching over to where his friends are still waiting. Castiel trails behind him, a little more hesitantly.

"Boys this is my brother Castiel, I'm sure you remember him. He's gonna be sitting with us," Gabriel says in a way that leaves no room for argument. Castiel looks at the guys, and vaguely remembers seeing them before.

They all nod to him in greeting, playing it cool. Regardless Castiel feels there discomfort. No one ever knows how to deal with the crazy kid. He understands. Doesn't really know how to deal with himself either.

The lunch table is filled with a bunch of other boys, most of them look like seniors, except for one kind of scrawny yet extremely tall looking kid sitting at the corner of the bench. Gabriel introduces him to the crowd again. They all greet him the same way everyone else does.

"So Cas! I'm sure you know most of these losers," he doesn't, but says nothing. Gabriel's still talking though, and he tries to focus in on what he's saying.

"Except for maybe that pipsqueak over there," he points at the tall kid, "This is Sam Winchester. First freshman to make varsity since me!"

Castiel looks over at Sam who just sort of shrugs in response. He looks awkward sitting among the older crowd, like he's only there out of obligation to the unspoken code of jockness. He's making an odd face, too, kind of like he's on the verge of tears. It's almost comical because Castiel's never seen that facial expression on a jock before. For a second Castiel considers saying something to him, but then decides against it. Even with good intentions he has a history of making bad situations worse.

Once they're all settled, the jocks break off into their own conversation about something, and Castiel quietly starts working on his lunch. He's not hungry, but he's never hungry so he forces himself to eat anyway. Just like Doctor Mills would want him too. Gabriel doesn't bother him. Knows he won't want to talk to anyone. Castiel notices that Sam is quieter than the other jocks as well, but he still talks a little. Usually only when prompted. They make awkward eye contact occasionally, but Castiel makes no attempts to acknowledge it. Sam appears less socially awkward than that, however, or at least he tries to be.

"So, Cas, right?" he asks looking directly at him. It's like every other conversation happening stops, and they're all turn to look at them. Listen to them. He feels Gabriel twist in his seat. His pose remains casual, but his eyes are hard. He's getting protective, monitoring his brother in case the stranger turns out bitter.

Sam is still waiting for a response so he nods. A thing he learned when dealing with casual conversation. Better to stay silent for as long as possible.

"That's a cool name," Sam tries, but Castiel only nods again. He can tell the other boy is getting nervous from his lack of response, but it's better this way.

"So..." He fishes for something else to say, "Why are you starting school so late? Did you transfer from somewhere else or something?"

Everyone tenses except Gabriel and Castiel. This seems to be the natural reaction for whenever his condition is mentioned. Castiel is calm. He's learned to be calm, but he feels bad for Sam again. He hadn't known. How was he supposed to know? Brand new to the grind, just a freshman.

"I've been away," He explains. Sam looks confused so he clarifies. Hardly bats an eye, "Cloudy Falls Mental Institution. Just outside of Lawrence."

"Huh," Sam says. He seems startled, but not surprised. It's hard to be surprised with Castiel. Crowley had told him he reeked crazy, "I used to live in Lawrence."

"I'm better now," he blurts on impulse. That's usually the first thing people wanna know. Hadn't even noticed Sam didn't ask.

Sam just nods, "That's good. Welcome back, I guess."

"Thank you."

"You meet any hot chicks?" the boy next to Sam asks, and the others seem to think the question is hilarious, cause they're laughing. They're making more noise than they should be, the laughter sounds bigger supplied by more people then there actually are. Castiel tries to focus. Narrow in on reality.

"I had a friend," he makes himself say, "Her name was Meg... I think she may have liked me."

They're laughing again, and his mind feels even louder then before. He glances over to Gabriel who's crouched low in his seat looking predatory.

"Then my friend Crowley kissed me, and I punched him for it."

It feels like a hundred people are leaning into him and roaring right in his ear. He twitches, claustrophobia sneaking up on him at the wrong time. He glances over to Sam who seems to be the only one besides Gabriel not laughing. He looks even worse than before, and Castiel can't help feeling a little guilty because of it.

"Aw yeah, Cassie! You work that shit! Show 'em who's boss!" Someone hoots, and it seems to break something within Gabriel.

"Alright, all of you! Shut the fuck up! Don't call him Cassie... His name's Castiel," then he shoves his lunch back, and slides out of the bench, "Come on, Cas, let's go."

Castiel's blue eyes feel wide, but at least his mind is quiet. Just like his brother's friends. They look contrite. Regardless he follows Gabriel's lead and get's out of the bench, then together they walk to the courtyard. A few minutes after they're settled, Sam pokes his head through the doors. Though he glares as the boy walks over, Gabriel doesn't protest when Sam asks to sit with them. Just puffs himself up in an attempt of intimidation, and waits for Castiel to nod.

...

"Hey!"

He's jogging, and doesn't notice the voice calling after him. Too concentrated on the time. It felt too late to be jogging. He'd liked running in the mornings, but he can't anymore, he has to be at school. He doesn't like it. Supposes he'll get used to it eventually though.

"Hey! Dude! Runner person, whos name I don't- Woahfuck!"

He hears this time. Turns around in time to see the boy from before, Dean, face planting into the ground.

"Shit," he's muttering as Castiel walks over to him. He's pushing himself up into a sitting position, brushing dirt from his knees. Green eyes blink up at him, and he's glaring again.

"Now you stop," he breaths hard, seems to be out of breath.

"Sorry," Castiel says, staring down at him. He's a little confused, no one's ever chased after him before. Well, no one real. Except Anna once.

"Damn," he's chuckling now, "You run pretty fast."

Castiel shrugs, "I've been doing it for a while now."

He has to crane his neck to look Dean in the eye, because he's still on the ground and it doesn't look like he's planning to move anytime soon. He seems to be rather comfortable actually, knees bent, one arm locked, propping him up, the other stretched across his leg. He's not sweaty today either, but still casual. A grey t-shirt, and a pair of baggy jeans ripped at the knee.

"You like staring don't you?" He's saying, and there's a smirk curling his lips. Castiel wonders if it's meant to be mean, but then decides it isn't. Dean has no reason to be mean yet. Still doesn't know who he is.

"I don't know. Never mean to."

They fall into a silence again, and it confuses him. What's Dean doing? Why was he talking to him? Did he have something to say? As if on cue Dean seems to realize something, a look of recognition crossing his face.

"My brother met him," he says.

"What?"

"The guy that jumped through the window. Kookie Cassie they call 'im," and he's grinning now. Looking smug again.

"Oh," Castiel says. Tries to think about who he met that day. Several people, could have been any one of them.

"Yeah, while he was at school today. Said he was nice enough. Kinda odd, but that's to be expected I guess," Dean moves his arm from his leg. Pulls at a strand of grass peaking through the sidewalk. He breaths a laugh, and shakes his head, "Kookie Cassie."

Then there's silence again. Their both contemplating things. God knows what Dean thinks about, but Castiel can't help wondering. He wondered if Dean suspected anything. How hard could it be to put the puzzle pieces together after all. He looks at Dean again, tries to see through his brain, determine what he knows. He seems clueless. It makes Castiel want to laugh. So he does.

Dean's head snaps up at the sound.

"Hey!" His grin glistens, "Your smiling!"

Castiel's eyes roll as he contemplates this, "Yeah. So what? You're always smiling."

"No, yeah, sorry," he brushes his hand through his hair, "It's just nice to know your capable of more than one emotion."

Castiel grimaces.

"Anyway," Dean huffs, "You gonna help me up or what?"

Castiel blinks at him. Stares at the hand reaching up to him, waiting for his assistance. He's touched that hand before, shouldn't be too hard to touch it again. He lets their hands meet then tugs. Pulls Dean up with a heave.

Once he's standing Castiel lets his hand fall to his side again. Then they peer at each other.

"What's that?"

Castiel glances down to what Dean's talking about. He's looking at the two letters stitched crookedly into the top left corner of Castiel's t-shirt. CM. Bright green. Practically screaming for attention. He falters for a second.

"I have to go."

Dean looks confused "Huh?"

"I have to go. Home."

"Oh. Yeah, me too I guess. Promised my brother I'd be back soon," he nods, "I guess I'll see you around?"

"Right," Castiel says, tries to check again. See if maybe Dean is messing with him. Still can't see anything unusual, "Bye, Dean."

"Later."

Then he's off running again.


	3. Normality Digs In

_Don't._

He stares down at the orange pill bottle in his hand, and twists it around. The medicine rattles around, bouncing from side to side. He examines the words scribbled on by a pharmacist. Time for meds. Flips the bottle over again, presses down to unscrew the lid.

_Don't do it._

He pauses. Looks up into the mirror and sees the panic in his own eyes. They've been assaulting him for hours. He needs the pills. Needs them to shut up.

_You don't understand. I'm helping you. You don't want them, not today._

Breaths a sigh. It's three in the morning. He has to sleep, for school. Continues opening the lid. It's hard. Hands all shaky, refusing to comply.

_Don't, they're wrong. Can't you smell it? They smell like shit. It's probably poison. Someone must've switched it._

Suddenly a rancid smell overwhelms him. Emulating from the pill bottle. He has to fight a gag. Pulls the pill bottle away and stops breathing through his nose. It smells like rotting meat. Someone starts laughing in his ear.

_See I told you. I bet it was Gabriel. He's always pulling shit like that. You should get him for it. The little fucker deserves it._

He grunts, presses his arms down to the cold porcelain of the sink, and leans on them. Closes his eyes, and forces himself to breath. The smell is still pungent in the air and he quickly stops. Fights another gag. Someone laughs again.

_He's evil. Always laughing. What's he laughing about? I bet it's you. Thinks you're a joke. Let's face it though, you are._

Breathe. Breaths deep through his diaphragm. Just like Doctor Mills would want.

_Doctor Mills doesn't know shit. She's scared of you, just like everyone else. It's Gabriel you need to worry about. Get him, Cassie. He deserves it._

"Shut up," he mutters. Glances down at the pill bottle and tries to open it again. His hands are even shakier, no way he can open it by himself, "Fuck."

The laughter intensifies. He can feel the anxiety rising inside him, needs to get the pills out. Tries the cap again.

_NO! DON'T DO IT! THEY'RE POISON! FUCK, YOU MORON, CAN'T YOU SMELL IT?_

He growls, jerks up to the mirror again. Something red flashes behind him, and he twists around.

Shouldn't have turned around. There's red all over. Crimson splatters dripping thickly off the walls.

_LOOK AWAY CASTIEL!_

His eyes dart around the room in panic. Everything is red. Where did it come from? Someone's still laughing, cackling like a devil. He wants to throw up. Feels anxiety curling on him. The red sludges down the wall, staining the baby blue paint.

_DON'T LOOK. COVER YOUR EYES! DON'T LOOK!_

The bathtub is full. Completely full. Completely red. Moisture wells in his eyes. Hand prints dye the tiles. They're smeared across. Reaching out, calling out for help. His breath catches in his throat. Body trembles. The canister of pills just barely hanging in his hand.

_CASTIEL!_

Glances down, eyesight blurry. He's covered in blood. Hands dripping. T-shirt stained with the same hand prints.

_GO AWAY!_

He screams. Loud. Chucks the pills at the wall and spins around. Brings his hands up to his head, wants to rake them through hair, squeeze his mind, but he cant. They're covered in blood. Doesn't want it on his face. Doesn't want to be stained. He can smell it again. Keeps his hands hovering in the air. Doesn't know what to do.

_GO AWAY!_

He whimpers. Shuts his eyes as he falls to the red ground. On his knees. Feels his pajama pants slide in it. Feels it squelch in between his toes.

_GO AWAY! COVER YOUR-_

A tear leaks from his eye, more pitiful noises. The door flies open, someone's rushing in.

"Castiel!" soft hands reach his shoulders and he flinches away.

_GO AWAY!_

"Go away," he mutters.

"Hey," quiet voice in his ear. Real. Soft hands rub him gently. Also real. More tears break from his eyes, and he can feel himself rocking, "Shh it's okay."

_GET OUT! CASTIEL! GO AWAY!_

"Go away," He repeats, can't say anything else. He makes another noise, not quite a sob, not quite a whine. Still equally as degrading. Only babies cry.

"Shh, it's okay, Castiel. It's not real, I'm here, it's okay," Anna. Of course she heard. Her room's right next to the bathroom. She's pulling him into a hug. Stroking a cool hand against his heated forehead. He doesn't fight her. Presses his face into her bony shoulder, lets her envelop him in her arms. More tears trickle, but the voices die down. Getting quieter and quieter till there's nothing left but Anna's cooing.

"It's not real. It's okay. You're safe," slim fingers smooth through his sweat damp hair. Tries to calm him, "It's okay."

Anna stays with him the rest of the night. Climbs into bed with him when he asks her to stay. She keeps him in her arms. Murmurs to him reassuringly. Brushes gently at his arm until he falls asleep.

He still hasn't taken his medicine.

...

He doesn't go to school that day. His mother doesn't let him. Thinks it's giving him too much stress, wants him to take a break. At least for a day.

Anna told her. Of course Anna told her, she had to. It's her responsibility. He wishes she hadn't.

...

"Shouldn't you be at school?" Dean is grinning at him from behind the gate again.

Castiel had been bored at home, so naturally he decided to go running. His mother had tried to stop him, but he convinced her to let him go. Reminded her that Doctor Mills would want him to.

Trying to delay his return as much as possible, he'd paused by the Campbell house again. He hadn't thought anyone would be home. Clearly, he was wrong because seconds later Dean had appeared out of nowhere and interrupted his starring match with the building.

"Shouldn't you?" He finally answers. Why isn't he at school?

Dean chortles, "Nope."

"Why?"

"I asked you first," he's smirking deviously. Teasing, but not making fun.

"I felt sick."

"You don't look sick," Dean notes through narrowed eyes.

"I'm not any more."

There's a pause. Then Dean seems to buy the excuse to a certain extent because he nods, then shifts his weight to his left leg.

"Why aren't you at school?" Castiel asks again.

"Dropped out," he shrugs.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to," He doesn't look embarrassed, just bored. Castiel doesn't like the look on him.

Tries to change the subject, "Who's your brother?"

"Huh?"

"Your brother?"

Suddenly Dean's smiling again, he looks like a proud soccer mom. It makes Castiel smile too, a timid curve of the lips.

"His name's Sammy. He's a freshy this year."

Sammy. Sam. Sam Winchester. Tall, awkward, kind face. Baseball team, but nice. Not afraid. They've sat together at lunch for the last three days. He shares his carrot sticks. Sam Winchester. Younger brother to Dean. Dean...Winchester.

"Sam Winchester," he states out loud.

Dean looks a bit caught of guard, but the apprehension disappears quickly and he's grinning even wider than before, "You've met him?"

"Yes," he nods, "I like him. He's nice."

"Yeah, Sammy's always been the nice one," Dean nods.

Castiel's eyebrows furrow in confusion, "You're nice too, Dean."

Dean blinks, then shakes his head and laughs under his breath, "Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome... I guess..."

...

When Anna and Gabriel come home some time after three, they're not alone. Another boy saunters into the house sticking closely to Anna. He's tall and blond, and his jeans are so tight they look like they're made for girls.

"Oh! Cas! There you are!" Anna says when she walks into the living room, leading the boy by the hand. Castiel looks up from the book he'd been reading, eyes land on the new arrival. The boy gives a lopsided smile as he walks into the room. Holds his gaze.

"There's someone I want you to meet," She's smiling, practically beaming. The boy steps up closer, "This is Balthazar, my boyfriend. Bal, this is Castiel."

Balthazar talks first, stepping even closer, smile in place with his arm outstretched, "I've heard a lot about you, it's good to actually meet you."

After a pause and a once over, Castiel speaks, "Yes, Anna's talked about you as well."

He reaches forward, getting ready to meet the offered shake, then hesitates just before making contact. Something hisses at him in warning, and he instantly yanks his hand back to his side. Closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens his eyes.

Balthazar looks a bit put off. Anna looks disappointed.

"Sorry it's just- I'm not very..."

Balthazar jumps quickly into recovery, "No, no it's okay! I understand, don't worry."

His accent reminds him of Crowley and his jeans remind him of Meg. It's an odd combination, but comforting in a certain way.

"So, um, Balthazar is on the baseball team with Gabriel."

A happy hoot is heard from the other room as Anna finishes. They both chuckle awkwardly, but Castiel can only focus on one thing. The baseball team. What is with the baseball team this year, and why was everyone suddenly on it?

"You're a senior?" He interrogates. Most baseballers are. He doesn't think Anna should date anyone that much older than her.

"Oh, no, I'm a junior," Not much better, but he supposes it's adequate.

He looks over to his sister, and she's giving him a questioning look. Wondering if she had his approval. He glances over to Balthazar one more time. He seems like a nice enough guy, even with the circulation-cutting jeans.

He looks back to Anna gives her a tiny nod of assurance.

Her face lights up once more in a smile.

...

"Oh he's a total mess, of course. Just like his father."

He's sitting at the island in the kitchen. Rachel is there too. She's cleaning the countertops. Smiling warmly as she rubs the cleaner into the marble. They're talking about her son again.

"I've been called to the school twice already, he keeps falling into mud," She shakes her head in amusement, "You know Gabriel used to do that? Nearly gave your mother an aneurism, all the messes he caused."

Castiel smiles, "He's still doing it. Why do you think he joined the baseball team."

Rachel leans her head back and gives a loud hearty laugh. She glances over her shoulder and gives him a look.

"So, what are you up to Castiel?"

He shrugs. He's not really up to anything, besides running. And Dean. He wonders if that's what she means, wonders if he should tell her about Dean. Wonders if she wants to know. So far no one knows they know each other. He's never had a secret this long. Not that Dean is a secret.

He doesn't have time to respond though. His mother is standing in the doorway, looming like a shadow. She looks serious. More serious than usual. That's not a good sign.

"Hello Mrs Milton," Rachel says sternly before turning back to her counter, and rubbing in silence. Though she never voiced it, he knew his mother disapproved of their relationship.  
She'd never liked to mingle between classes.

"Rachel," his mother nods in greeting, then veers her steely gaze to him, "Castiel."

"Hello Mom," he says, then looks away. Lets his finger trace a pattern into the top of the island. He feels guilty, and he doesn't even have a reason yet.

There's a moment and then she's moving forward. He can hear the tell-tale clicks of her heels. She crosses the room to where he is sitting, then peers at him through narrowed eyes. He squirms. Fights the impulse to run and hide.

"What's on your arm," she interrogates.

He blinks up at her, "What?"

"That, right there. What is that?" She points at the splotch just barely peeking through under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

"It's nothing," he says. Stupidly tugs the shirt down with his other arm.

"No," she says, sounding impatient. Reaches over, cautious first then suddenly fast. Like she made some sort of last minute decision. Her hand collides with his shoulder, and she yanks the shirt up. He nearly falls out of his chair trying to twist away from her.

"Stay still!" she command, presses down to hard in her attempts, making him flinch. He can see Rachel standing rigid in the background. He knows she feels like she's intruding. Never liked it when his mother harassed him in front of her.

Her second attempt is more successful. He's gripping the counter in his efforts to stay still, body and mind telling him to run. She finally pulls his sleeve out of place, exposing the large purple bruise darkening his skin.

"Castiel," she breaths. She's angry. Or worried. He can't tell the difference.

"It's not-"

"Don't lie." Her hand is still tight around his arm, and he wants to pull away.

"I got shoved. In school."

She doesn't believe him her eyes say it all, "Lift up your shirt."

"What?" He asks, eyes flicking to Rachel, still in the background. Her movements are slow like she's moving through molasses.

"Do it," her voice is commanding. He doesn't want to, but he knows she'll win eventually. She always does.

"I'm fine," he tires. Another futile attempt.

"Castiel. Do it, or I'll do it for you."

He doesn't move for a few moments, just stares down at his hands blankly. None of them are moving, just waiting. It feels like they're frozen in time. The stillness is broken when his mother steps towards him again. Spurred forward, he solemnly slides off the stool and steps in front of her.

She's standing still again. Posture straight and arms crossed over her chest expectantly. Like a stern mother trying to make her seven year old confess to steeling from the cookie jar.

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, and glances down. He doesn't want to show her. Doesn't want Rachel to see either. Knows neither will be happy with what they find. What if they send him away again?

The thought spooks him into action. His head jerks up, making eye contact with his mother one last time before he runs for it. Rushes through the house, dodges the furniture, and bursts through the front door. He can hear his mother calling, knows she'll be angrier in the long run, but he can't stop. Sprints down the street, as fast as he can. He knows they won't catch  
him. He's been training for months now.

He doesn't even realize where he's going until he's standing in front of the massive gate of the Campbell house. Dean's there too as always. Leaning on the outside with something sticking out of his mouth. He thinks it's a cigarette. It smells like a cigarette.

"Hey!" He hollers, but he sounds confused, "That's twice in one day. You goin' for a record or something?"

"Why are you always outside?" Castiel asks. He feels dizzy and his breath is coming out harshly. Hasn't ever run that fast before.

"Hey," Dean says again. Softer. Eyebrows knitting together, "You alright?"

No, he wants to say, but finds the breath catching. He feels dizzy. Everything looks like it's melting. He rocks sideways.

"Woah, woah," Dean says, presses his hand to Castiel's shoulder, ties to straighten him out. Everything is still melting. Everything, but him and Dean.

"Don't-," he jerks away, "Don't touch me."

"Dude," he can see Dean's hands moving closer as he stumbles sideways into the dripping metal of the gate.

"No!" He spits. Dean's hands touch down anyway. He rips away.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

His fist is flying, and he barely even realizes it. His knuckles burst painfully as they connect with Dean's jaw.

"Shit!" Dean wobbles back, hands flying to his face.

Castiel doesn't notice. He's running again. Lungs feeling like they're on fire, but that doesn't stop him. He just keeps running . He doesn't know where. Just runs.


	4. Begging, Reacquainting, Confronting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kinda short. The next one is longer.

He wakes up in his room later, with a fuzzy memory of what happened. His mother is beside him. Sitting in a chair, staring down at him with a clear expression for once. He can feel her hand, cold against his chest. Dusting softly against the finger shaped mark just under his collar bone. He feels tired. Wants to go back to sleep. Eyes drift closed for a moment, then flutter open again.

It's dark around him, in his room. It's dark outside his window when he turns to look. Rare to see his mother out of her room this late. She doesn't normally dally with the children. Her fingers move left, skim outside the fresh scratch by his armpit. The wound is raw, he flinches.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" She says, voice quiet.

He swallows against his dry throat. Wills himself to talk, "...I didn't."

"Castiel," voice just barely above a whisper. Her fingers move again. To his forehead, free of scars, and pets him softly.

"It wasn't me," he croaks, "Was them."

Her fingers tread through his hair. He closes his eyes again, lets the feeling float over him.

"They hurt me," Feels a knot clog his throat, "I didn't-"

"Shh," she whispers when he can't finish. It sounds shaky. He creaks his eyes open and sees hers. They're glistening in the dark. His lower lip quivers.

Sit in silence for a while. He's skittering in and out of sleep as his mother caresses him, just like she used to. The nostalgia is bittersweet.

"Don't send me away again."

It's the last thing he breathes before falling out again. Doesn't know what her response was. Doesn't know if she even managed one.

...

He wakes up with Anna and Gabriel for school the next morning. His mother isn't there to stop him. Probably went back to her room after he fell asleep. They don't argue with him when he gets in the car, just kind of glance at each other. Gabriel fills him in on the drive. Tells him how they went looking for him. How they found him half way across the neighborhood passed out on someones yard. The sprinklers had turned on so he'd been drenched through. Gabriel snickered, but it sounded drier than usual.

...

Al finally notices his return that day.

After lunch, they'd made eye contact. He'd been filing out of the cafeteria, Castiel was coming from the courtyard. His face remained straight as Al's eyes touched his. Al's predatory smile stretched in what he supposes could've been a menacing way. He can't bring himself to care. Al always did think himself scarier than he actually was. As far as Castiel was concerned he was an inconvenience.

He sighs as he treks to his next class. He'll be lucky if he makes it through the day without contact.

...

He doesn't make it the day. As it happens, Al chooses the worst possible moment to reacquaint himself.

While walking back to Gabriel's car he finds himself stopped by a crowd in the carpool. He never liked walking that way for the very reason. It was too full, lots of people. He contemplates waiting out the crowd, it wouldn't last too long, but the gaunt figure leaning on a sleek, black car stops him. It's Dean Winchester. Popping up randomly as usual.

He's parked in the carpool, causing an inconvenience for other cars. Logic stands to show he's there for Sam. He's not looking either. Castiel wonders if he should run before it's to late. He's not ready to see Dean again. Especially since the guys got a bruise across his jaw about the size of South Africa. He wonders if Dean still thinks he's normal. Doesn't seem likely. He clenches his teeth.

That's when a hand catches his shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his skin. It's Al and a couple of his friends. They're all leering at him. Al in particular.

"Well, I'll be damned!" He says voice obnoxiously loud. Seeking attention as always, "Kookie Cassie, back in town!"

Castiel tries to calm himself. He's not scared of Al, he's scared of Dean. Well, Dean seeing.

"Yes, I'm here," he answers, keeping his voice even.

"That's just great!" He chides, rolling his R.

"Yes." A couple people nearby look like they're trying too hard not to notice. He hopes Dean's in that group.

"Nice to see you all in one piece, Cassie," his snake-like eyes scream the deeper meaning behind his words. Castiel nods to him. Doesn't care what Al thinks.

"Come on people!" Castiel cringes. He's getting even louder. Others near by look over, "Let's give Cassie a round of applause for comin' back to us safe and sound!"

He leads the clap, and his friends quickly join in. Several other boys are game, and start clapping as well. Most everyone else looks uncomfortable. Despite himself he can feel the heat in his face. Hasn't felt properly embarrassed in a long time. It's almost like he's on 's no way Dean hasn't noticed by now. As hesitantly as possible, acting against every nerve in his body, he turns his stiff neck to look back in Dean's direction.

There eyes meet immediately. Dean's entire body is frowning. His shoulders tense beneath his t-shirt. His eyebrows knitted. His eyes flaring. His mouth a thin line. Castiel can see the questions forming on his face, but he can't determine the specifics. Doesn't know how to respond to Dean. Doesn't know how his own face looks. He's worried though because Dean looks like he wants to get involved. And that would make things worse.

As always Gabriel saves him. Flashes up behind Castiel from nowhere and roars at everyone in the vicinity. Yells a collection of 'Fucks' and 'Cunt Muffins' before grabbing Cas by the shoulder and peddling him away. He catches one more look from Dean before finally moving along.

...

There mother's car is in the driveway when they pull in. She usually doesn't leave work early so she must have spent the day at home. Castiel hates it when she stays at home, she gets too much time to think. Too much time to try and save him.

She doesn't approach him right away. Waits a while, he gets enough time to finish his homework. When she finds him her face is cold again, eyes no longer shinning. She's signing him up for therapy again. Not with Doctor Mills, she lives too far away. Someone new. He doesn't want someone new, but he's getting her anyway. Mother made that very clear. Her name is Tessa. He's not sure if that's her first name or her last name, but he'll find out soon enough. Sessions starts on Saturday. Tomorrow. He wonders if he'll see Dean before then.

They're just staring at each other now. His mother's said her piece, and Castiel doesn't know how to respond. He knows what she wants of him. Something normal, something capable of behaving, something that her friends won't frown upon. He knows what she expects of him. Basket case, shaking, sobbing, rocking in a corner. He won't give her either.

"I'm going outside."

He's not jogging, though he'd changed into his exercise clothes, routine be dammed. He's getting a new therapist so it doesn't really matter if he keeps up what Doctor Mills taught him. He's switched doctors before. They all want something different from him. All heave different ideas of what will make him better. Maybe he'll keep jogging, since he likes it so much. Not today though.

The turn towards the Campbell house is steadily approaching. It's making him feel nervous. He wonders if Dean will be there. He always seems to be there. But things are different now. Dean knows him now. Knows he's Kookie Cassie. He's not gonna want to talk to him, no one wants to talk to him. Parents teach their kids to stay away, don't want the illness rubbing off to them.

He misses Crowley and Meg. Having friends as crazy as he was, was easier. Not that Dean is his friend. He's just kind of there, barely known him for more than a week. He like his anyway. Castiel turns the street corner.

Someone's sitting outside the gate. As he makes his way closer he's not really surprised to recognize Dean. His clothes are different from what he was wearing earlier. Synthetic shorts showing the tan skin of his calves, and a tank top showing off his toned shoulders. He looks nice, bruise or no. Castiel feels his brows furrow at the thought, though his mind blanks the second Dean turns and looks right at him. He starts when he notices Castiel slowly making his way over, and shoots up from where he was on the ground, legs uncrossing from their pretzel shape.

"Hey!" He bounces over, and Castiel stops, lets him catch up, "Finally! I've been waiting for hours!"

"You were waiting for me?" His eyebrows furrow.

"Yeah," Dean shifts over from one foot to the other before cutting straight to the chase, "So you're Cassie?"

Castiel looks down to his shoes, "My names Castiel. You can call me Cas too. Sometimes people call me Cas."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean's asking.

Castiel looks up again, meets his green eyes. He doesn't look any different than usual. Lips still curved with an over assured smirk, face still lased with an unspoken challenge.

"You never asked."

Dean's eyebrow quirks in aggravation and he opens his mouth to talk, but stops. His eyes roll back in his head a little, and he looks concentrated on something.

"Yeah, that's true," he finally admits, "Why aren't you running?"

Castiel shrugs, "Was just trying to delay the inevitable."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"You calling me a freak, then telling me to fuck off," he blurts without second thought. Then turns away feeling somewhat embarrassed. That's twice in one day.

"Is that what people normally tell you?" Dean asks he sounds resigned.

"I don't know. Most of the time people just refrain from talking to me all together. Crowley said it was 'cause I'm a freak."

"Well, Crowley sounds like a dick."

"No, no it's okay. He's a freak too. We met in the looney bin. That's what he called it anyway," Castiel explains. As far as acting normal goes he's doing a bad job. He'll be lucky if Dean finishes the conversation.

"Well whatever, dude. I don't give a fuck."

Castiel blinks in surprise, "Really?"

Dean gives a one shouldered shrug and smirks deviously, "As far as I'm concerned we're all freaks, you're just part of the unlucky bunch who got called out on it."

"Oh," he doesn't know how to react. Every logical part of him had thought Dean would be creeped out. Just like everyone else. This was a surprising turn of events that he was unprepared for. It felt pleasant none the less. He could feel himself smiling.

"Anyway, I was gonna go running with you, that's why I changed," Dean was still talking, Castiel forced himself to pay attention. Wanted to hear every word that came out of Dean's mouth.

"I'm not running today."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"You can come next time if you want," Castiel stated. He'd never run with anyone before, always preferred the solitude, but he doesn't mind Dean's company too much.

"Nah, I kind of hate running... You ever bike?"

"No." He didn't even own a bike. He'd rode on Michael's when he was younger, but that'd been taken from him when his older brother left for college.

"Well we should go sometime. How about tomorrow?"

He contemplates the proposition. Hadn't had any plans anyway. "Okay, it has to be after three though, cause I have therapy."

Dean laughs, and shakes his head, "Alright man, after three. Meet me here, bring a bike."

"Okay."


	5. Exploring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you everyone for all the positive feedback. You're all wonderful.

"Are you ready?" Anna asks peeking her head into his room. He's sitting on his bed, back straight, feet flat on the ground.

"I guess," he sighs. His first session with Doctor Tessa starts in forty minutes. Pulls at the collar of his shirt awkwardly, feeling both nervous and uncomfortable.

Anna steps fully into his room and sits down next to him, "You look nice."

He's wearing more of the clothes his mother had bought him. A light green shirt, and grey slacks. He wants his old clothes, but his mother doesn't let him out in those, other than to jog.

"I hate these," he says, finally voicing his thoughts out loud. Anna gives him a soft smile.

"Here," she moves, unbuttons the top button of his shirt. His neck feels reasonably freer, and he subconsciously swallows down the spit in his mouth, "Better?"

He shrugs, and she smiles, rocks into him, bumps him gently with her shoulder, "We can go shopping later. How about it?"

Castiel almost agrees then he remembers, "I can't. I have to meet someone."

Anna looks surprised, "Who?"

"A friend," he feels himself blush for some reason and his eyes skitter away from her probing look. He doesn't want to tell her and he doesn't know why. Never felt a reason for secrets before.

"Castiel!" She doesn't sound angry, but the sudden volume in her voice alarms him. He glances back at her through wide eyes feeling extra jittery.

"Do you-" She cuts off and looks around. Then whispers, "Do you have a date?"

"What?!" he's so shocked that she would ever come to this conclusion he forgets to deny her.

"Oh my God! Who is it?" She asks, the eager look in her eye is frighting. He'd forgotten how much his sister cared about these things.

"Anna-"

"Is it a boy or a girl, 'cause you know I've always wondered about you?"

"Anna-"

"Do they go to our school?"

"Anna!" She finally shuts her mouth enough for him to get more than one word in, "I do not have a date!"

"Oh," the crestfallen look that crosses her face almost makes him wish he was lying, "Then who are you meeting."

"I told you, my friend... His name is Dean." He admits, though he just barely forced himself to.

"Huh. Dean, from the Campbell house?" She asks, her voice quiet again.

"Yeah."

"Oh... Okay." Anna says. She looks thoughtful.

...

The therapist's office is neat. Walls a smooth cream color, carpet a light grey. She has a couch and a chair, and a coffee table in between, letting him choose where he wanted to sit. He chose the couch, because it seemed like the proper thing to do. The doctor seems okay. She's an average sized woman, with straight black hair, and a nice face. She introduces herself as Doctor Tessa Harvey, so he still doesn't know what to call her. When his mother asks she answers vaguely. Telling them in doesn't matter. He hates that answer. Gives him to much of a choice and he'd never been very good at making decisions.

There sitting quietly now. Him on the couch, back as straight as always. Her sitting back on the chair across from him, hands twined casually in her lap. His mother in the waiting room outside, they'd left her by the magazine rack. Doctor Tessa Harvey is starring at him, like she's examining him or something. Memorizing every detail of him, and it's making him nervous. He twitches awkwardly in his seat, and hates himself for doing it. Now she knows he's uncomfortable.

Finally she breaks the silence with a sigh, "So. Castiel."

His gaze flicks up to her for a fraction of a second before he looks away, and starts fiddling with a string on the couch. He forgets to answer her, too preoccupied with the string to notice.

"How's school?" She asks, and he looks up again to see a sly smile curving her lips.

"Uhm," he coughs before continuing, "It's okay."

"Are your classes hard?" She continues.

"Not... Really. I er-" he lifts a hand to scratch at his cheek. The stubble forming is prickly, his mother had taken away his razor after the one night, just in case, "Calculus is hard, but I like to read."

She hums, analytical eye still holding him, "I was always best at math, actually."

"Oh," he says. Looks up at her again. She's still in the exact same position as before. He wonders if there's something wrong with her too.

"Do you have any friends?"

"At school?"

Doctor Tessa Harvey nods.

"Mostly, I just talk with Gabriel and Anna... They're my siblings," he pauses and checks with her, her stares never falters, waits for him to continue, "But also there's Sam Winchester. He's on the baseball team with Gabreil. He's really tall. And nice. And so is his brother Dean, but Dean doesn't go to school. He dropped out. We always talk when I run. I like Dean a lot, he doesn't care that I'm crazy."

He stops and closes his eyes. Hands fold together in his lap. Tries to regroup himself. He hates it when he does that. Regurgitates everything there is to know about him. It makes him feel vulnerable, but he can never seem to stop. Then again it makes the whole 'digging' process a lot easier for his doctors.

"So, Dean. What's he like," she asks when he peaks his eyes open again. She's still the same as before. He fidgets again. Of course she had to hang onto the part about Dean.

Castiel shrugs, "I don't know."

"Oh come on," her smile curls the tiniest bit, "We can start easy. Tell me what he looks like."

Casteil pauses, recalls Dean even though he doesn't want to, "Um, he's kind of tall, but not as tall as Sam. He's got dark blond hair. And freckles. And his eyes are green, but they're always changing shades. And he likes to wear t-shirts with 'Metallica' on them. I think that's a band. He's worn two already and I've only known him a week."

"That's a lot of detail for one week," Doctor Tessa Harvey remarks. She sounds suspicious like she's trying to prod something out of him, but he's not sure what it is.

"I um," he looks away again, "Dean says I stare too much. Actually... Everyone says that."

She hums again. From this angle he can see the way her toe bounces every couple of seconds. It's hypnotic.

"So what else is he like. Internal attributes this time."

"He's... "

"What?"

"I don't know."

"Castiel."

"He's happy."

"...That's good," Doctor Tessa Harvey states. She finally switches positions, leans forward a little bit, puts her left arm on the armrest.

There's another pause, and she's analyzing him again. Her facial expression calm, and the off putting smile still timidly curling. Castiel feels confused. Doctor Tessa Harvey seems smarter than Doctor Mills. He can see it in the way her eyes measure him. Doesn't know how he feels about that.

"Your mom says you had a severe episode recently."

He turns to look out the window on the side of the room. The pale curtains are stretched open, and he can see a tree a little farther away. It'd be a nice tree for climbing. Lot's of branches, and not overly tall.

"I did."

"Describe it to me," the way she says it frightens him. She's not giving him a choice anymore.

"Um," He stalls, and pretends to think about it even though he doesn't need to. He's had the same vision since the eighth grade, "I was in my bathroom. I needed my medicine because I couldn't sleep."

"Okay," she nods. He can see it out of the corner of his eye even though he's still staring at the tree. He thinks he can see a bird's nest tucked neatly in between two branches.

"There was... a lot of blood. All over the place, even on my clothes. And- and I could hear my mother screaming."

Castiel turns back to face her, and there's a small crease formed in between her brows, "Something specific?"

He nods.

"What was it?"

"She wanted me to get out. To run away," His fingers drum nervously across the couch filling the short silence.

"Is that what happened when you were thirteen?" she asks, keeping her voice low. That's one thing Doctor Mills did as well. Keeping calm so not to spook him.

He looks straight at her. Fixes his gaze on her and holds it for once. Then he shakes his head, "No. There was less blood in real life."

...

The car ride back home is quiet for the most part, and he supposes they're both rather thoughtful at the moment. There had been nothing particularly unique about the session besides Doctor Tessa Harvey's peculiar stillness. Either way he was glad he'd gotten that over with. Now he could go spend time with Dean, which could possibly be a good thing that could equally be bad.

The second he'd stepped out of the office, his mother gave him this long, pensive once over as if she expected him to be a normal boy after one session. He wonders if there'd ever been a time in life where he'd made her happy. Even before he started hearing voices he'd been off. He overheard her discussing it once with his grandmother. She wanted to know why he was so different from the other children, and why he was always so quite, and why he barely ever blinked, and why he could never make friends with the children of her associates.

"I need my razor back," he says for some reason. It's true, he needs to shave, but he hadn't planned on bringing it up.

His mother's fingers tighten around the steering wheel, "You can't have it, I'm sorry."

She doesn't sound particularly sorry. He looks in the other direction, but then she's speaking again, "But if you want, I can give one to you temporarily, only if I monitor you while you use it."

...

After a quick shave with his mother standing awkwardly on one side of the bathroom, he's ready to meet Dean. At 3:25 he's in the garage trying to find a suiting bicycle, and fully aware of his tardiness. In fact his stomach is starting to curl, and he keeps checking his watch in hope that the clock would turn back several minutes.

Finding a suiting bicycle to ride proves to be a bigger problem than expected, because Gabriel's bike, besides being reasonably smaller than what Castiel would need, is covered in dirt and missing the front wheel, and Anna's has tires so airless they would probably pop under the slightest bit of pressure. However, he eventually uncovers a long forgotten air pump buried deep in the shelves of their garage, and restores Anna's bike to its full capacity.

He makes it to Dean's house at 3:41, and remembers he'd forgotten to change. He peddles the peddles of Anna's bike as fast as possible regardless. Finds Dean waiting for him looking board, with his own sullied black bike propped up by a kick stand that looks so bent back he's a little confused as to how it manages to hold up the bicycle it's attached to. He's wearing a tank top again and there's a small back pack hanging over one of his shoulder.

"Dude," dean says when Castiel screeches to a halt in front of the Campbell gate, "What's with your bike?"

Castiel glances down at the bike resting in between his now planted legs, then cocks his head in confusion, "I don't know?"

"It's... Pink," Dean narrows his eyes as he examines the vehicle. He looks weary, as if he's expecting it to explode at any minute.

"It's my sisters."

Dean starts laughing as he swings his leg over his own bike, "Alright whatever man. Come on, I wanna show you something cool."

They ride in silence through the neighborhood, except occasionally when they reach a big hill. Then Dean hollers loudly, and lets go of the handle bars, spreading his arms to the side so it looks like he's flying. Dean's an experienced rider, easily propelling himself forward at a steady speed. Castiel does his best to keep up. Dean likes to go fast. When they finally slow down he's feeling breathless and sweaty. Dean looks just as fresh as he had before, except for his slightly pinker cheeks, and hair that had been brushed up from the air.

"Alright, we're about to turn off the main road," Dean warns and seconds later their bumping down the dangerously steep and gravely hill leading into the woods surrounding their neighborhood. Castiel complies though he's unsure about the stability of his sister's bike as they bounce down the rock littered path.

When they reach the bottom there's another smaller, muddier path, and Dean leads the way as they ride into the thicker areas of the forest. He's speeding up again, and Castiel can see a large bump steadily approaching in their path. He doesn't slow down though because Dean's not slowing down, and seconds later he's following Dean over. Flying up and laughing as the wind sweeps over him, ruffling his hair. They land roughly, but keep riding despite it all. He's finally getting used to the speed, and enjoying it more and more. Knows that if his mother were here she'd be calling him back, and it makes him feel even more energized.

He looks at Dean as they ride. Watches the way the muscles shift in his calves as he peddles, and occasionally lifts himself up as they ride over a root. His shoulders and arms are flexed as well, holding tightly to the handle bars. His eyes skim over the sliver of his skin peaking out from the edge of his shirt. He's so entranced he doesn't notice the rock that bumps under his wheel; and nearly flips over the front of his bike. Castiel forces himself to look away as Dean laughs at him. Instead focuses on their surroundings.

After a while the muddy path they'd been following fades out, and it's just them flying through the woods swinging dangerously close to the trees speeding by them as they ride. Castiel looks around as they bike, it's all green every where. Green trees, green grass, green undergrowth, with the occasional rock in between. It's a nice combination of the stereotypical Kansas fields, and grey barren Kansas woods.

"Ah! Here we are!" Dean says halting abruptly, and Castiel follows his suit.

He gets off his bike as Dean does, then lets it fall to the ground, because it doesn't have a kick stand. They'd stopped in front of a small, yet fast flowing creek. It's clogged with leaves and branches of trees, but the water is incredibly clear as it floats by. Every pebble is visible underneath.

"There was a storm a while back. A butt load of trees got ripped out," Dean says. Castiel follows his gaze, several yards away he's staring at a massive tree trunk hanging above the water. It's wedged snugly between the other trees in the area, and several smaller trees lap over it, probably having snapped under the weight of the heavier tree.

Castiel walks over to the crossed branches, then testingly lifts his leg to one of the smaller trunks. He presses down. It wobbles a little, but doesn't snap. He takes it as a good sign and lifts his other leg. Starts climbing easily till he reaches the big trunk, and hoists himself up.

"Cas!" Dean yells. The forest crunches noisily under his feet as he approaches, "Get off man, you're gonna break your neck!"

Castiel can't help smiling at the bewilderment in Dean's eyes, "It's okay Dean. It's safe."

Then he stands up. Brushes his hands against his pants though his mother won't be pleased with the dirt stains that will undoubtedly sink into the fabric. He walks to the center of the trunk, and looks down. It's a respectable height above the creek now. He could probably break a bone if he fell, lots of rocks bellow breaking his fall.

 _Jump_ , he hears, and it startles him. Suddenly feels dizzy and off balance, his arms fly out to his sides to steady him.

"Cas seriously, come down!" Dean calls. He cautiously steps forward when Castiel doesn't respond, just sits down and swings his legs off one side of the log. He watches, calm again, as Dean wobbles up the branches, imitating Cas' steps. He's definitely less graceful now than he'd been on the bike. The back pack may be weighing him down a bit. He reaches the top of the log, but refuses to stand up. Instead straddles the wood and inches his way forward till he's next to Castiel.

"Fuck man," Dean breaths when he's settled, having awkwardly swung his leg over so that he's matching Castiel's position. He looks down nervously.

"It's nice up here," Castiel says. Sighing happily as another breeze glides over them.

"Whatever you say," Dean scoffs, then pulls his back pack over onto his lap, "I have a treat for us."

Castiel watches Dean's hands intently as they dig through the sack, and frowns when Dean pulls out two dark bottles. Castiel takes the one Dean's extending to him, though his movements are hesitant.

"I have more for later if you want 'em," Dean says popping the cap of his beer before taking a long swig.

Castiel had never drunk alcohol before. It had never seemed like a good idea for him. He knows his older brothers have though. He'd found them drunk once. Half unconscious, on Gabriel's bed, babbling incomprehensibly to each other and laughing at nothing in particular. Now though, with Dean he feels brave. And he doesn't want to let him down. He takes a breath, then a deep sip. Fights a gag as he swallows the bitter taste. It's warm, and very unpleasant.

Of course Dean starts laughing, and he expects it has something to do with the utterly disgusted expression on his face, "Sorry, I found it in my garage. Not really sure how long we've had it."

"It's disgusting," Castiel informs him, and wipes away the stream that had leaked down to his chin.

"Better then nothing," Dean shrugs, then takes another sip. He makes his own face this time, "Maybe."

They sit there for a while just looking around, and sipping the atrocious drink.

Then Dean talks again, "So can I ask you something?"

He already doesn't like where this is going, but nods anyway.

"Why'd you jump out a window with your sister?"

Castiel feels himself blush again, "I thought the house was on was a fire... that was the safest escape."

A bird tweets in the distance., "So you were trying to save her?"

"I guess."

"Huh," he takes another sip of his drink, "Are you a virgin Cas?"

Castiel nearly falls off the trunk, and turns to look at Dean through wide eyes, "Why do you want to know that?"

Dean shrugs, "I don't know. Something about you kinda screams 'virgin' and I was thinking maybe that's why you're so sad all the time."

"Oh," Castiel blinks. None of that made sense, but he's too awkward to say anything about it.

"So are you?" Dean asks, and he's so casual about it, it's almost annoying.

"Yes..." he finally admits, "Are you?"

Dean turns to him with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression, "Hell no!"

"Right."

They fall into silence again, and Castiel chugs down the rest of his beer, before reaching into Dean's bag and getting another.

...

Castiel comes home drunk, and covered in dirt, and he ends up throwing up half way through the night because the beer reacts badly with his medication. His mother gets angry at him and rants at him for being irresponsible, and how dangerous that is for someone like him. But he can't being himself to care because he feels honestly happy for the first time in a long time.


	6. Preachers and Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry everyone, but this is officially the last 'speedy' chapter update. From this point on you guys who are reading, can basically brace yourselves for longer waits. Sorry, but it's all I have written so far :(  
> Also I was half asleep when I wrote this so be prepared for not quite coherent phrasing.

Castiel's in the living room trying to focus on his homework when Gabriel saunters in, with a lolly pop sticking out of his mouth. Anna and Balthazar followed in shortly afterwords, their hands hanging linked at their sides. The recent addition of Balthazar in his sister's life meant an addition of Balthazar in his life as well. The baseball player was at their house more often than not these days. His gaze trails after them as they cross the room.

They sit down in the love-seat across from him, and smile bashfully at each other. Something twinges in him and he looks back to his homework. The math's incomprehensible, there's work all over the page. He scribbles down a random number for his answer, finally giving up on finding the actual solution. He lacks the patience for math.

"How's it going, Cas?" Gabriel asked as he flops down into the spot next him. The stick from his candy lolls out from his teeth dangerously.

"Fine," he mutters and does the same for his next problem.

"We've come to worn you ... eh ... apparently," Balthazar declares, though he sounds confused.

Castiel's stomach drops, and his eyebrows furrow. He stops his work and looks directly at Anna, "Warn me about what?"

...

"How'd you get the Campbell house?"

He and Dean are sitting on their log, relaxing deep in the forest and away from the rest of humanity. The water underneath them rushes higher than normal due to the rains from the previous day.

Their spot is called Piss Creek now. Several weekends ago they'd drunk too much Gatorade, also found deep in Dean's garage, and needed to 'pee like fuckers'. After much convincing from Dean, Castiel finally agreed to stand with him, and relieve himself from the log, right into the rippling water below them. It had been a ground breaking experience, one he found himself laughing at one night while lying in bed trying to fall asleep.

They don't have alcohol today, but Dean's smoking a cigarette, something he does often. He remembers warnings from teachers against tobacco in middle school. The pictures of cancer survivors had been frighting, but he find himself enjoying the smell of it. At school, when he finds a group of underclassmen sharing one behind the bleachers, he is comforted. He's reminded of Dean, and doesn't rag on them. Not that he would've otherwise.

Dean takes another drag, inhaling deep into his lungs, then turns to look at Cas. His neck shifts as he breaths out again, puffs the smoke into Cas' face, making him smile.

"Whudya mean?" he cocks an eyebrow lazily. That's what smoking does to him. It makes him calm. His smile's slower, his green eyes saggy. It's nice to watch the tension slide from his shoulders, almost as if he were stripping off layers of clothing.

"I've lived in this neighborhood all my life," Castiel states, he turns away from Dean, and admires a squirrel as it skitters around a trunk, "No ones ever lived there before you."

Dean's eyes glisten, and he sinkers, "Maybe 'cause people are scared you'll jump through their windows, and we're stupid enough not to care?"

Castiel finds his smile growing. It doesn't hurt when Dean mentions these things. He's not laughing because he wants to be mean, he's laughing because he thinks Castiel is amusing. It's nice. Not having to run from himself for once.

"That's not what I mean, Dean."

Dean laughs again, "Well, if you really wanna know. My grandpa is Campbell."

Castiel looks to him again, "You mean..."

"The house was ours to begin with. Sort of," he shrugs, takes another pull from his cigarette, keeps the smoke in for longer this time. Castiel can almost see it rolling over his tongue and throat.

"So why are you living in it now?" he asks, leans his weight on to his hands, and cranes his neck toward the sky. The tree leaves braid together, creating a speckled roof above them.

"My mom got laid off from her job, and the cash I made at the Jiffy Lube wasn't enough for our house. So we moved to a bigger one, with her parents, so we could afford it," the smoke curls out from his lips as he speaks.

"Oh," Castiel breathes. The way he refers to his grandparents is odd. He's still squinting up at the sky. The sun beams cascading through the branches warm his face, "Wanna come to my house tomorrow? Around 6."

Dean chokes on his current puff of nicotine, then turns on him with watery eyes, "Huh?"

"My sister suggested I invite you to our house tomorrow night," Castiel shrugged, refusing to meet Dean's gaze. He could feel that unexplainable heat in his cheeks that normally accompanied his talks with Dean. Wished he could control the feeling somehow, but knew he would never be able to.

"Tomorrow's Friday," Dean said as if this was to mean something important.

"Yes it is."

"All the 'pretty young things' are out Friday nights," he explained. Castiel could feel another hot puff of smoke loop around his neck. Dean was trying to get his attention, but he couldn't bring himself to look. Something in his gut was clenching.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Castiel said he with a blink, eyes following after a bee zooming about the rocks by the shore of the creek, "It's just-"

Your sister suggested it?" Dean said, the laugh was back in his voice. Castiel finally chanced a glance at him, to find him staring with an entertained smirk curling his lips.

"...Yeah."

Dean heaved a heavy, over exaggerated sigh, "Fine, I'll come over."

Castiel felt his own tiny smile surfacing again, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean waved one of his hands, "Since your sister suggested it."

...

Parties, or gatherings as his mother preferred, were not an uncommon occurrence in their circle. Now at 8:45 on Friday, Castiel sat, awkward and alone, on the hard wooden staircase of his house, wearing the nicest of his mother's clothes; dark slacks, a pastel blue button down, a navy blue tie, and polished black dress shoes. His hair, despite his mothers best efforts, refused to stay down, but he wasn't too worried about that.

He was more concerned with the guests mingling around his house, wearing their dress clothes, and swirling their cocktails. He hated socializing with crowds, but this crowd particularly set his teeth on edge. They all found a way to judge him even more than usual, and in the most pitying way possible. Most of them coming up at least once to shake his hand, and smile sadly at him, and tell him they're praying for him, as if he was some sad washed up puppy without a home. At the same time they edged around him nervously, leaving the second they'd finished the mandatory exchange of hellos.

It was even worse now, since they knew where he'd been the last several months, the news having spread like a fire between the condescending men and crowing women. Now he was a lit stick of dynamite that no one would throw out. He heard the disdained hisses spitting at him behind their plastered smiles. He'd bring on all his power not to flinch or run from their cold eyes.

Freak.

Normally, during a 'gathering' Castiel would stick around for the main entrances because his mother would want him to, then hide away in his room the rest of the night. Tonight was different though, because Dean had promised to come. He had to stay by the crowd so as not to miss his friend. He'd chosen to wait by the steps because the living room was too crowded and the study was too far away from the door. However, two hours and fourty-five minutes into the party he's still at his perch with a sore backside, and a settling feeling of claustrophobia despite his solitude.

"Cassie there you are!" a voice with a hyper defined British accent accentuated by a pair of sharply clicking heals interrupts his panic.

He looked up to find his sister and Bela Talbot making their way towards him. Anna with a somewhat sheepish facial expression. Bela leading with an overly bright smile. 'Sorry' Anna mouthed once they were closer. Castiel felt his brows crease.

"Uh.. Hello," he greeted gruffly. Bela was one of those figures in his life that had always been around, but he had never found comfort in. She was several years older than him, but he was never sure exactly how much because she refused to say. Old enough to date, hump, and dump Michael though, something Castiel resented her for.

"I've been looking for you all over!" She exclaimed, gliding up the stairs and wedging herself down next to him, despite the expensive looking dress she was wearing. He tried to inch away from her as subtly as possible.

"Well. I've been here," he said, rubbing sweaty palms against his thighs nervously.

"So!" She carried on casually as if they were best pals, "How have you been! I haven't seen you in ages!"

Castiel tried to answer her, but the words were catching in his throat. She was sitting too close, and his claustrophobia was only increasing. Her perfume was strong and bitter and she was wearing too much and it was making him dizzy. All he wanted was to go to his room. And see Dean. But Dean wasn't there even though he said he would be. Sweat pooled at the base of his neck. His tie suddenly felt even tighter.

"He's good," Anna answered for him, and the smile on her face was far from genuine.

Bela glanced over to Castiel as if to double check his sister words. He forced himself to nod. Lifted shaky hands and loosened his tie, popped the top button on his shirt.

"Well that's good!" Bela continued, "We missed you last month. It was our turn to host."

"I... Yeah," he closed his eyes for a moment. Tried to steady the spinning world around him.

"Cas?" A gruff voice.

His eyes shot open immediately. Narrowed in on Dean standing in the doorway wearing jeans and a polo, one arm clutching shiftily to the other. His green eyes were wide. He looked at the crowd of well-dressed kids mistrustfully. Breath was already coming easier.

"Dean," Castiel said, and he didn't care how obvious the relief in his voice sounded. He shot up from his seated position next to Bela, and wobbled unsteadily over to his friend.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, I got caught up with something- uh. Quite the party you guys have going on," Dean's voice sounded strained and he waved stiffly to Bela and Anna. The noises of the other guests carried clearly through the halls of the foyer, "If I'd have known, I would've worn something nicer..."

"It's okay," Cas said, smiling stupidly, but not being able to control himself. Anna was giving him that funny look again, but he ignored her, "You're fine-"

"Hello," Bela's voice, suddenly a purr, cut him off. She was off the stairs as well, making her way closer, creeping forward like a feline.

Dean's eyes flicked over Bela, and his posture changed immediately into something of a predator. A dark smile, that Castiel had never seen before, stretched across his face, "Hey."

"Hi," Anna pitched in awkwardly. The pair barely regarded her as they eyed each other calculatingly.

"Who's your friend, Cassie?" Bela interrogated.

"Uh," Castiel swallowed roughly before continuing, "This is Dean Winchester, he lives in the Campbell house. Dean, this is Bela Talbot, and my younger sister Anna."

Dean broke his contact with Bela for a moment to smile, his usual charming grin, at Anna, "Hey, nice to actually meet you," he shook her hand briefly before turning to Bela with the other smile, and taking her hand slightly slower, holding on longer than necessary, "And it's nice to meet you too."

Bela giggled. Castiel felt sick again.

That was when Gabriel, Balthazar, and another constant figure of Castiel's life, Brady, made their entrance from the direction of the kitchen. Each boy was grinning his own mischievous smile, and carrying a bottle of some unknown alcohol.

"Aha! Found you," Balthazar crooned, stepping towards Anna and wrapping his free arm around her.

"Ladies, gentleman... stranger," his eyes landed dubiously on Dean, then he raised an eyebrow artfully and wiggled the bottle he in his hand, "Shall we get this party started?"

...

"Come on, Cas!" Gabriel swings an arm around his brother's shoulder, "Just haveuh shot! I promise I won't tell Ma!"

Eyes flick to Dean and Bela.

The drink in Gabriel's glass sloshes threateningly around it's rim. Dark droplets hit Castiel's pants, and the cushion of the chair beneath him.

Back to Dean and Bela, cozied together in one lawn chair, his arm swung casually around her. Her devious red smile.

He's the only one in the group still sober, and though none of them are tripping balls, they're all tipsy enough to laugh at Dean's stupidest jokes.

But he's not telling jokes anymore.

Everyone, excepting Gabriel, has long since given up on trying to make him drink, but his brother's determined.

She whispers something in his ear. He knocks his head back and laughs. Eyes flick away.

"Awh! Leave 'im alone Gabe!" Brady calls from where he's stretched on the patio floor, hands behind his neck. The boy smirks, "Just give it here instead."

Acrylic fingernails skim lightly over his shoulder.

"No! You shut up, and let me get my baby brother drunk!" Gabriel glares angrily. He turns back to Castiel and swishes the glass around under his nose as if this will somehow entice him.

He's whispering something this time, and her eyes darken.

"Gabriel, stop," Anna mutters half heartily from where she's tucked snugly against Balthazar's side. She's half asleep already, the boyfriend plays with her hair fondly.

Her hand's on his knee now. Something's building up inside. Something suffocating.

"Seriously Cassie! Just take the fucking shot!" Gabriel cries desperately, just as Dean and Bela are leaning even closer into each other.

Something snaps, and maybe it's because of the two of them together. It's jealousy he's feeling he realizes now. Maybe it's because of Gabriel's slip. Castiel is shooting up from his spot. Breathing spikes from even to heavy in a second. They stop leaning, all eyes are on him now.

"I- ... I'm going now," he declares. Pivots, and walks into the house.

"See, now look what you've done!" Hears someone mutter, probably Anna, before the door is fully closed.

...

He stumbles into the living room. Backs into a wall and takes a second to just breathe. Calm down. It's not all bad, Gabriel's just drunk, and Dean's just... Drunk. Another deep breath, and for a second he hears Crowley laughing into his ear. When he opens his eyes everything's back to normal.

The adults are all scattered throughout the house, several still mingling in the corners of the living room. One figure attracts his attention. It's small, sitting alone on the big couch in the center of the room. Jesse Turner, he recognizes. He's much bigger than he was before. How old is he now? Castiel takes a moment and thinks about it for a second. Probably ten years old. Only seven years younger than Castiel. Funny how that used to be such a big difference. Now in prospective to everything, including almost dying from a three story fall, it barely seems like anything at all.

He remembers Jesse better than a lot of the people he's been forced to associate with. Funny enough, he remembers down to the first moment he laid eyes on him, seven years old. He'd been a small, wrinkled, thing that was barely bigger than his father's hand. He remembers even clearer when he was thirteen, and everyone was at the funeral, but him and Jesse. Jesse because he was too young, and him because his mother didn't think he could handle it. Rachel had looked after them for the few hours everyone was away. They'd gone to the park, and played together, and it was okay. So, maybe, Jesse wasn't a figure that had been there all his life, but he was the figure that had been there all of _Jesse's_ life.

Without another thought, Castiel pushes off the wall, and plants himself down on the spot next to the boy. Jesse looks startled for a moment, then the recognition in clear in his eyes and he smiles.

"Cas!" he says, and it's the brightest anyone's ever sounded while saying his name.

Castiel smiles back, "Hello Jesse. Long Time no see."

"Yeah," Jesse nods seriously, then asks, "Are you better now?"

Castiel sighs. He'd thought that if anyone wouldn't know it would be him. He answers honestly though, he thinks Jesse deserves an honest answer, "The nurses say I am, but who knows."

"Well," Jesse says thoughtfully, "You don't have a cast, so you must be better, right?"

"Uhm," Castiel looks down through narrowed eyes.

"Mom said you were at the hospital, and I remember, I was at the hospital once. They gave me a cast so that I would get better, and when they took it off they said I was healthy again. You don't have a cast, so I guess your healthy right?"

Castiel felt himself grin. An honest to God grin, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Well that's good, then," Jesse nodded, "I'm bored. Do you have any toys?"

They walk to Gabriel's room together and rifle through his cabinets looking for the toys Castiel knows he's hoarded. Eventually they find an old Lego set, and empty it out onto his already messy floor. Castiel finds himself enjoying the moment as they construct multitudes of useless things.

They're in the process of building an 'Ultra Spaceship' when Mrs Turner walks in.

"Jesse, are you in- oh," she halts, expression more serious than Castiel's ever seen it. And her eyes are on him. Castiel realizes that they're part of the few that hadn't come to welcome him back tonight.

"Hello, Mrs Turner," Castiel says, polite and quiet.

"Castiel," she answers. Lips tight, and through her cold eyes he can see the fear. How she watches Jesse extra close to make sure the crazy hasn't already rubber off on him.

Jesse looks up to see his mom, oblivious to her stony expression, "Look Mom, Cas' is showing me how to build an Ultra Spaceship!"

He holds up the Lego clump for exhibition, and Mrs Turner eyes it warily, "That's great Jesse, but it's getting close to bed time and we have to go home."

"Aww! Mooo-oom!" He whines, "I'm just starting to have fun!"

Mrs Turner's lip twitches, "No, Jesse, it's time to go."

"I wanna play with Cas some more!"

"Jesse, NO!" She all, but shouts and Castiel can't take the startled look on Jesse's face, so he looks away. Flicks lightly at one stray Lego.

"A-alright," Jesse stutters, scrambles to his feet, and hides behind her leg.

"Bye, Cas," he hears the soft farewell, as Mrs Turner pulls him away from the room, and back downstairs.

Castiel stays still, just kneeling, and staring down the Ultra Spaceship, laying abandoned on the ground. Suddenly, he's rearing back, and his fist is flying through the air. He grunts as his fist smacks down against the toy like a hammer. There's a loud snap as the Legos fall apart, and his hand hurts like hell, but he doesn't care.

...

When he marches back out onto the patio the first thing he notices is Dean and Bela laying almost horizontally on one of the lounge chairs. Their lips are locked, and Bela's lodged between Dean's legs with her claws scratching at his chest. Dean's wide hands slide up and down her sides hitching her dress higher in their trek. Another flare of anger flashes through Castiel and he turns away, tries to focus on everyone else. Anna's stretched out on one of the bigger chairs, fast a sleep, and curled in on herself, Balthazar's jacket lies over her like a blanket. Meanwhile on the other side of the patio, the remaining three are preforming a highly off key rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Castiel strides over to them, and they cut off their 'Galileo's the second they notice his arrival. All three whoop in welcome as he slides down beside them.

"Cash is back!" Gabriel slurs happily, and the other two chortle at him dumbly.

"Give me a shot," Castiel commands, and the three whoop again, Gabriel even starts clapping.

"Your wish is my command," Balthazar declares as he tips a bottle of what looks like tequila, and fills a glass.

He knocks it back, and it goes down terribly. Squeezes his eyes shut while it burns his throat, he can feel it everywhere even in his nostrils. He barely manages to keep it down, but once it's settled he smacks the glass back down in front of Balthazar.

"Another."

"Yeah Cassie!" Brady calls, he fills it this time.

He's already feeling the tell tail warmth of drunkenness looping through his stomach. The second shot goes down easier, but it still burns like crazy. He almost coughs up a lung when he's finished, and the other guys are laughing.

"Alright bro, I'm cutting you off," Gabriel says through his chortles.

Castiel shakes his head through his coughs, "No- he clears his throat- another."

They all exchange looks, and it just fuels the fire. He wants to be drunk, and he doesn't care what they think.

"Come on!" he barks, "Give me another one!"

Dean and Bela finally look up from their make out session.

"Cas, dude, you alright?" Dean asks and all Cas can see is how wrecked he looks. Hair sticking up in patches, his lips swollen and red from Bela's lipstick.

Castiel ignores him and looks at his brother, "Gabriel. Please."

Everyone, excluding Anna who's still knocked out, looks at Gabriel. Apprehensive. No one's joking around anymore. The older brother's face is concerned, his voice is soothing "I don't think that's a good idea, Cas."

Castiel growls in frustration, then reaches for the bottle himself. He chugs straight from the lip, getting two big gulps before some is pulling it away, the liquid sloshes all over the place, soaking one of his sleeves. It doesn't matter though, because he's satisfied, everything is spinning around him, and he slumps backward, stretching out on the cold cement. Smiles at the stars as they blur into thin lines twirling about him.

"Cas!" Gabriel's face hovers over him and then Dean's is too.

"Hey, you okay man?" that gruff voice calls to him, and Castiel laughs. One of his arms swings up, heavy, and brushes against his prickly jaw. He laughs again. Dean catches his hand and puts it back to his side.

"Oh shit!" that's Brady in the distance, "Someone's coming!"

"Fuck!" They all scuttle around, trying to hide the evidence of their misbehavior. Castiel just lays there, staring at Dean who's still hovering over him. He's looking around anxiously, watching the others and snapping commands at them ocasionally. Looks so pretty against the lines of stars.

"Under the bush, under the bush!" Bella hisses just as a new voice is introduced.

"Hello kids."

Castiel glares just at the sound. He hates it. It's Father Zachariah. Can't repress the disgust he feels. Tries to sit up, but Dean pushed him back down before he can get far.

"Hello, Father," they all answer besides Dean, who doesn't go to church, and therefore doesn't know who the hell Zachariah is, and Castiel, who's to busy trying to get up to talk.

"What are you all up to?" he sounds chipper, but that underlying base of evil is present. A cacophony of voices screech in Castiel's head and he grunts, falling back once more. Snaps his hands up to his ears, and crushes down on his skull to block the noise.

They don't get to answer because the yell that rips from Castiel's throat veers Father Zachariah's attention. He walks over to where Castiel had been lying unnoticed before then, and peers over him. Castiel squints into his bald, repugnant face. The voices echo one more time before dying away completely, and he lets his hands flop back down. Blinks, befuddled.

"Castiel," Father Zachariah frowns, "What are you doing on the ground?"

"Uh, nothing, sir," Dean starts but Castiel's snickering cuts him off.

"Fuck's it to you?" He coughs out harshly. Words like gravel in his normally rough voice.

Father Zachariah's eyes widen, affronted, "Now, my son! Do not get hostile."

Castiel laughs again, short and bitter, then shoves Dean away. Finally manages to sits up. His head is heavy, and it's a struggle to stay up right, but he glares at the father none the less, "I'm not your son."

Zachariah's eyebrows furrow, and he leans the slightest bit closer. Sniffs.

"Have you children been drinking?!" he exclaims, turns to each of them in feigned disbelief. Because of course they've been drinking. They're teenagers stuck at the pretentious party of their parents. What else is there for them to do?

Castiel's still muttering to himself, and all the other kids are too guilty to say anything, "I'm not your son. You are not my father. You are NOT my father."

"Castiel!" Father Zachariah swoops down on him. His face fake. Like a wax mask, but the mask is deteriorating, his true face leaking through. His skin peels away, smeared in dried blood, and dirt. He's rotted flesh. Sunken eyes, completely black. Lips ripped, and dripping blood, baring razor sharp teeth. Worms pulse through his cheeks, diving in and out of his decaying skin. His voice a low, animal, roar, "What are you saying, son?"

Castiel's snaps his eyes shut, tries to crawl away, yells, "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"Cas!" He's not sure who it is that calls him. Maybe it's Dean, maybe it's Gabriel, maybe it's Anna, she must be awake by now.

"Son, please. Calm down," Zachariah grates.

"YOU ARE NOT MY FATHER!" He keeps yelling, his horse voice cracking in some words, tears welling in his sealed eyes, "MY FATHER'S DEAD! HE'S BURNING!"

"Castiel calm down! Someone get his mother!" Father Zachariah, commanding the worst possible thing to command.

"Cas, come on!" They're all calling to him, trying to coax him into peace, but all he can hear is the preacher, and his lies.

"YOU SAID HE'S BURNING!" He calls in accusation, "I HEARD YOU! AND I'M GONNA BURN TOO!"

"Castiel!" his mother finally rushes out, along with several other nosy guests. He still can't hear anyone. Just screams, and cries, and pounds his fists on the ground, as Father  
Zachariah howls at him.

"I don't want to burn," he whimpers, collapses back to the ground, curls up around himself, and murmurs indistinctly into the ground. Everything starts fading into darkness. His body numbing down, the sounds around him disappearing, until he's completely over come by the unconscious.


	7. Hay Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is kind of really weird (also thank you for everything so far everyone)

Something is thudding. His eyes are closed, he's laying in his bed, and something is thudding. It's near and distant at the same time. Dull and steady, beats of two... A heart beat. He shifts to his back. The heart beat continues, soft, but persistent.

It's cold. The t-shirt he's wearing is thin. Tries to pull his blanket up, but can't. Something is holding it back, keeping it at his waist. He opens his eyes, pupils dilate immediately. Pitch black all around him. He can hardly see the edges of his bed. Nothing is there, he's all alone. The heart beat speeds up, fear churns his gut.

"Don't be scared," a familiar voice calls, low and calm. Smooth, like melting butter on bread.

Castiel takes a moment, follows the command. Waits for breath to come easier. Feels calmer in seconds. The voice is magic, and he wants to see it's source. Looks around desperate, squints into the darkness, tries to see, but nothing's changed. He's still alone.

"I'm right here," the voice sighs, and breath brushes against his earlobe. He twists around.

There he is, leaning on the head board, partially concealed. He's breath-taking. Emerald eyes illuminating the dark, lavish lips parted in breath, shoulders bare, chest bare, muscles shimmering. He's beautiful.

Dean smiles, lifts a hand and touches Castiel's face, brushes his thumb against his cheek. Castiel doesn't run away. Let's him touch, and finds himself enjoying it. His eyes flutter closed. He can still see some how. In a way. Dean's face is still bright. Smile widening, eyes crinkling. Too beautiful. He can't be real.

He chuckles, "I'm real."

The touch on his skin is warm, traveling beneath his chin, and down to his neck. Fingers flatten, cup him gently. 

"You're kind of cute, you know?" The voice has moved. Castiel's eyes crack open.

He's on the bed now, fully visible, all of him bare, and glowing. His arousal is obvious. The heart beat picks up again, but not from fear but, his short breath is just as suffocating. His eyes flick away, shameful and confused.

"It's okay. You can look."

He doesn't. Just swallows the spit pooling in his mouth. Tries to relax his suddenly tense muscles. Another arm appears. Glides up and down, raising goosebumps in its wake. A tiny sigh escapes, but the sudden pressure of lips against his prevents any more noise.

Dean's kissing him, and it's soft and gentle, and the tiny nerves in his mouth are buzzing as they move. There's a soft tongue swirling around his, and he tries to match the movements. Let's Dean show him what to do. The hands are still persistent around him. The one on his arm, holding him tighter, the one on his neck falling to his shirt covered chest. He's surprised at how easy it is to breath.

Dean shifts closer. Swings one of his legs, over Castiel's blanket covered ones. Lowers them so they're horizontal. Mouths still crossed. He lifts his own hands then. Feels a pulse of energy as one connects with the naked skin of Dean's side. The other hooks around his armpit to his shoulder blade. Flattens his hand on the protruding bone, and tries to push him closer. Dean's ready to comply. Presses their lower bodies together, the touch is shocking even through the blanket. Dean moans, and the noise is so amazing Castiel freezes in his movements, takes a moment to let it wash over him. 

Dean moves the hand at his chest away, holds himself up against the mattress. Let's his mouth slip to the throbbing vein in his neck. The brush of his lips and tongue is light. It tickles a bit. But pleasant, everything is pleasant. He's never felt like this before.

Then Dean bites down. Eyes widen as his teeth prick sharp against Castiel. He's shocked, but the continuing shift is even more sudden. Dean starts squirming above him, fluid movements turning choppy. The background beat speeds up even more. Dean's hips thrust between Castiel's legs, and press. Hard. Almost painful, but at the same time he can't fight the pulse of pleasure. The hand at Dean's back flexes.

"You like that don't you?" Dean growls. His slick tongue licks up a stripe before he bites down again. Harder. Castiel makes a pained noise. There's something hot and liquid dripping out from his neck. He tries to move a hand to the wound, but Dean catches him. Clenches hard around his fingers so their throbbing just as bad. Their hips meet with even more force. Dean's wrong, he doesn't like this.

"Liar," Dean whispers. He pulls away, grinning that same dark smile from the party. Teeth and lips smeared in red. His eyes flash black for a moment.

Then he's back. The once gentle kisses are attacking, wet and suffocating, every inch of his face and neck. Dean's free hand moves to the collar of Castiel's shirt and yanks. The fabric rips easily. Castiel's fist digs into Dean's skin, blunt nails pulling in protest, but Dean ignores him. Just shoves further with his hips, pressing painfully against him. He wants to scream, but the tongue in his mouth blocks the noise.

"You little fucker," Dean murmurs in between his attacks, "You know you want this. Want me."

"Dean!" Castiel finally manages, and everything changes.

He's released from the weight of Dean's body with a startling abruptness. The dark turns to bright white painted walls. His bed slips away, and he finds himself in a hard chair, sitting at a table. He's in the rec room at Cloudy Falls. Crowley and Meg sitting at either side of him, glaring at the playing cards spread in their hands. The only thing to remain constant is the stinging bite in his throat, and the tear in his t-shirt stretching from his collar bone to the center of his chest.

"Do you have... any fours?" Crowley asks. The edge to his voice hints he's one wrong away from snapping a neck.

Meg doesn't seem to care. Smirks dirtily then drawls, "Go. Fish."

"BLOODY- FUCKIN' CARDS!" Crowley's hand slams down to the table with a earth shaking thud that no doubt would've startled Castiel if he wasn't so confused. The people sitting near by glance over, and a nurse is already striding towards them from across the room. Meg's the only one amused, leaning back in her chair and chortling at the boy's, or man's, as Crowley preferred, misfortune.

Castiel glances around trying to gather his thoughts. The erection that had been in his pants earlier is gone. He's not sure when it disappeared, but he doesn't feel the least bit aroused anymore. His neck palpitates and he remembers. Winces as he dabs a hand to the open wound, then looks. Finds it covered in blood. No one else seems to notice. Not even the nurse, who after checking up on Crowley walks away.

"You gonna try again or what?" Meg asks. Leans close into Crowley's face, then lifts an eyebrow tauntingly.

The color in Crowley's face is draining, but he still looks as murderous as before, "No. I'm done with this ruddy game. You can play with Cassie if you want."

Meg laughs again, then turns to Castiel, tongue poking from her cracked smile, "Whad'ya say Cassie? Play a game?"

Castiel barely finds the breath to respond.

"No," he shakes his head.

Looks around again. What's he doing here? At least Meg and Crowley are acting normal. Unsuccessfully tries to will away the memories of Dean with blood on his face, and pitch black eyes.

"You guys are no fun," Meg pouts, slumps back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest.

"Yeah well," Crowley straightens out the collar of his shirt that is so clearly missing a tie, (the nurses confiscated them all from him the second he walked through the doors) "You're a whorey bitch."

She rolls her eyes, "Wow, that's a good one. Real unique insult for someone with a sex addiction."

"You don't have a sex addiction, Meg," Castiel finds himself saying, though his hand is at his wound again. Trying to keep the blood from spilling out, "You have troubles distinguishing between realities."

"Yeah well," Meg smirked, "Still get more ass than the both of you combined."

Castiel looks away with furrowed eyes, and again tries not to think about his troubling experience with Dean. Crowley seems less willing to let it go.

"I can't speak for Cassie here, but sweet heart, I'm a king. You are a two-cent prostitute. No point even comparing us really."

And so the argument went on, both firing one liners until, simultaneously they turn to Castiel and raise opposite eyebrows at him.

"Tell us Cassie. Which one of us would you rather do?"

Barely a second passes after they ask and Castiel finds himself ready to answer.

"Dean," he states without a bit of hesitation.

Everything melts away again, and he finds himself in yet another location. A dock, stretching out several yards ahead of where he's standing. Stars light the night sky, and reflect in the still waters of a lake.

He recognizes this place. Used to come here every summer with his family. Michael and Gabriel would canon ball into the water, yelling at the top of their lungs. They'd make Castiel and Anna laugh by preforming improvised water ballets in which they clumsily tumbled over each other and spun around in the shallower waters. Then, as the boys danced around stupidly, distracting them, their father would sneak up from behind, scoop them both into his arms, and heave them far into the center of the lake. Their mother would smile grudgingly as he jumped in after them, hollering louder than his children had.

It had been a good tradition, one that ended like every tradition usually does. Castiel takes a deep breath now through his nose. Inhales the fresh lake side air, and reminisces with a soft smile curving his lips. Those had always been good days. Days when he had still known silence.

"Castiel," another voice calls to him. One he hasn't heard in a long time.

He turns around slow and calm, and examines the sight in front of him. A large bird, sits atop one of the uneven posts of the dock, and stares at him intelligently. It's a majestic creature. Larger than an eagle, but small enough to still be considered a bird. Bright red feathers layered on top of dark crimson ones. The tips are singed, sparking in and out of a fire that seems to move in waves through it's body and long extravagant tail. 

It takes another moment to realize where the voice had come from.

"...Father?" he asks the bird after a moment.

The bird nods it's head, long neck bending slightly through the movement, "Yes, Castiel."

It's long pointed beak remains still as the voice rings out, clear as if it were spoken with a human tongue, blinks it's eyes along in affirmation. Eyes that are as blue and crystal as the boy's in front of it.

"W-what are you?" He asks, reaching his hand out testingly toward the bird then snapping it back before contact can be made. He wonders if its fire will burn him.

"I am your father," he states flatly, "I thought we'd established that."

Castiel's eyebrows furrow, "Right. Sorry."

"It's alright, Castiel. I imagine talking to your father while he posses the shape of a burning bird is confusing," he says with a chuckle.

"A bit, yeah," Castiel confirms. He rubs his head awkwardly, ruffling the hairs at the base of his skull.

"You've gotten older," the bird cocks it's head premeditatively, looks Castiel up and down.

"I guess I have," he nods once, stares at his shoes self consciously. Not for the first time he wishes he were more like Michael. Tall and muscular. Handsome and self assured. Something a father would want his son to become.

"Don't you do that," his father suddenly commands. Castiel's head snaps up, and lets their eyes meet, expressing his confusion silently, "Don't bring yourself down. And don't compare yourself to Michael. You're stronger than any of them could ever be."

"That's not-"

"And you're stronger than me," The bird puffs it's wings out assertively, and narrows it's eyes at Castiel.

There's a pause.

"Why are you on fire?"

The bird doesn't respond this time. Just lowers it's head sadly and waits. After a moment of silence, it looks up again, beats it's wings twice in a test before raising up off the post, and flying off into the air. Castiel's eyes trail after it as it soars through the sky, radiant wings stretched wide at it's side, tail bursting from behind. It swoops high and low in waves over the water in a delicate dance. At one point it does a loop, twisting completely upside down for a moment, and Castiel is sure he sees it wink before it rises even higher, and shrinks off into the distance

His eyes fly open as the bird hides behind a cloud disappearing form his sight forever.


	8. Questionable Saftey

Waking up is rough, and not a natural event. His mother storms in at 11:20 to wake him up for therapy. She barely spares him a moment. Just shakes him into consciousness, and skirts her eyes over him as he blinks bleary at her face. She doesn't say anything, hides all that could be considered human emotion behind a grave eye-squint. Then walks away.

He rolls out of bed when she leaves, and groans pitifully. Every part of him is in pain, his muscles are sore, and his brain is throbbing, and all he really wants to do is fall back into bed, but he forces himself to keep going. He just barely manages to sway through the bathroom doors and stands there for a good couple of minutes, recuperating. Stares grudgingly into the mirror, finds his own cold glare a bit frighting. Everyone of his hairs is pulling in the opposite direction it should be, there are dark bags under his red rimed eyes. He leans his head to the side, and examines the bright finger shaped scratches stretching up the expanse of his neck. Closes his eyes for a moment, and fights the wave of dizziness that passes through him.

He takes another moment once the world stops moving, to stand with his eyes closed and not think about anything. Then, with a sigh, twists on the sink and tries to wash out the taste of the night before from his mouth. Doesn't bother showering, knows he doesn't have enough energy for that, and puts on his comfort clothes. Thankfully, his mother doesn't make him change to what she considers appropriate. Just watches him pensively from under her coffee cup as he slurps cereal from a spoon.

Basically, he's fucked.

...

"Tell me something about yourself."

Doctor Tessa Harvey is eying him from across the room. Her head cocked the slightest bit to the left, a clip board rests on her crossed legs, and a pencil is bouncing up and down between her long manicured fingers.

Castiel chews his lips, and tries to contemplate the question without expressing every one of his thoughts on his face. As he usually did. He doesn't understand how doing something like that will achieve a substantial result, and he certainly doesn't want to talk right now. His head's still throbbing dully, subdued only slightly by the ibuprofen Rachel slid him at breakfast.

He exhaled a heavy breath. This may or may not be the session determining whether or not he'll be institutionalized again. He's treading lightly here, and he knows, that she knows, he knows.

"What do you want to know?" he finally asks. Can't go wrong with a bit of clarification.

Doctor Tessa Harvey smiles that knowing smile of hers, "Tell me something... You've never told anyone before."

She's asking a lot of him, and the look on her face suggests she's aware. He still doesn't know how to answer, though everything's riding on his answer. There's not much he can tell her because there aren't many secrets he keeps. He could talk about the time at Cloudy Falls, he, Crowley, and Meg traded medication, making Crowley stare stoically at a wall for two hours straight, and Meg cackle pitchily though her teeth before keeling over face first into the linoleum floor. After swallowing one of Crowley's sedatives Castiel found himself taking a twenty-eight hour nap that had nurses quite worried, or so he was told by Meg and Crowley.

Something inside tells him that a story like that one, wouldn't help his case at all. Eventually he decides to just start talking. Hopes what comes out is the right answer.

"In fifth grade, Ava Wilson was my best friend... Actually, now that I think about it she was probably the only friend I ever had as a kid. Anyway... At recess we would hide under the slide, and try to dig to China. And- We'd gotten so far in that goal, the hole was at least two feet deep..." Doctor Tessa Harvey stares at him silently as he speaks, "Then one day, half way through the year actually, we crawled under the slide, and the hole was completely full again. One of the custodians filled it because it was a safety hazard... a-and Ava started crying, and it made me feel like complete shit."

"Do you still have contact with Ava?" she asks when he finishes. She examines him and he plays shiftily with the fabric of the couch.

Castiel breaths a sigh, "No," then he answers the next question before she can even open her mouth, "She asked me to marry her, and I said no, because I wanted to marry Wolverine..." he chuckles heartily at the next bit, "Then she kicked me in the shins we never spoke again."

The doctor shifted in her chair, and her eyes sparked in a sudden something, "You wanted to marry Wolverine?"

He looks up tiredly, then rubs a hand over his face, "Yes. I did."

"Do you still have these feelings?"

"You mean... Do I still want to marry Wolverine?" his eyebrows raise dubiously, making the doctor laugh. It's the first time she's ever done so in front of him, and it's the least threatening she's ever looked.

"I mean, do you still have attractions to people of the same gender as you, Castiel."

He feels something churn in his stomach. Green eyes, freckles, and dimpled smiles flash through his mind for a moment. Doctor Tessa Harvey is watching him with that piercing gaze of hers, and he feels himself sinking in his seat. Bare, muscular arms, form fitting tank tops, and that sliver of exposed stomach that teases every time he stretches.

"I-I" he clears his throat, "I guess you could say that."

It's the first time he's ever admitted it out loud. He almost regrets it, because it makes him even more of a freak than he already is, but then he catches the pleased face Doctor Tessa Harvey is making. Suddenly things don't seems so bad.

....

He's leaning against the organically grown tomato bins in his mothers favorite grocery store. She's off near the more exotic produce. Whirling about amongst the other pretentious buyers, packing biodegradable grocery bags with purple cabbages and dragon fruit. Less people swarm around the common foods section, so Castiel busies himself there. It's an antisocial technique he'd developed when nine years old. The 'hide behind the normal food' strategy. 

He's staying with his family. Doctor Tessa Harvey smiled at him when their time ran out, and assured him he was safe. For now. His mother's gonna be watching him closer now, as well as Anna, but he doesn't have to leave again. For that he's thankful.

Castiel picks a tomato from behind him, then tosses it to his other hand. He stares at it for a while, captivated by the shining, red center. Tosses it to the other hand again, then stares some more. Wonders whether or not it was upset by the fruit vs. vegetable debacle. He thinks that if he were a tomato he'd have been at least a bit disgruntled by the events. It's a bothersome experience, being one thing your whole life, only to have the public tell you, you're something else entirely.

He frowns at the tomato.

Wonders if maybe it's hiding from the public too. Maybe it likes being in the deeper ends of the produce isle just as much as Castiel does. Maybe it doesn't want to deal with the nonsensical populace either. He wonders for a moment if the tomato ever feels jealousy towards the dragon fruit, that's so sure of itself it has it's 'species' proclaimed right in its name.... Wouldn't it be embarrassing for the dragon fruit if everyone suddenly decided it was a vegetable. Would it still be called 'The Dragon Fruit'? or would it have to change. He thinks 'The Dragon Vegetable' doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

"Cas!"

Castiel jumps, and stares wide eyed at the Dean Winchester approaching from behind one of the further isles. He fumbles with the tomato that's still in his hands, and slams it back down to it's box. With a bit too much force. Tomato guts leek out onto his fingers.

"Dean?" Castiel blinks, and wipes the juicy slime against his t-shirt, "W-what are you doing here?"

Dean never really striked him as the type to shop in over priced farmer stores, but he'd learned long ago that looks could be deceiving. Castiel looks him over quickly with skittery eyes. Tries to catch any differences in stance or expression. Who knows what Dean thinks of him now, after that degrading display from the night before. He looks the same as always though, smile already curling his lips, arms and shoulders hanging casual.

"Sam, refuses to eat meat from anywhere else. Something to do with factory farming or some stupid shit like that," Dean shrugs apologetically.

"Ah," Castiel nods solemnly, "Well my mother seems to have a similar opinions about vegetables."

Dean chortles through his nose, and they share a look. A those-fuckers-are-crazy look.

"So. Are you feeling alright? Last night got pretty intense," Dean says, and Castiel feels himself flush red.

He glances down to his feet, and rubs awkwardly at his neck, "Yeah, sorry about that. Just, those parties always make me weird."

"It's funny," Dean smiles stupidly, "I didn't know you could get any weirder."

Castiel purses his lips, and narrows his eyes. He looks back at Dean, and something about his expression must be funny because Dean's laughing, and placing an arm on Castiel's boney shoulder.

"Hey! Come with me for a second I want you to meet my mom," Dean says, nudging him gently in the direction he'd appeared from, but Castiel stalls. He glances over at his own mother, who moved on from Dragon Fruit to some weird Squash-Pumpkin hybrid. She'd be worried if he went somewhere, not to mention meeting people in general made him nervous, yet alone Dean Winchester's mother.

"I- I don't think that's a god idea," he grits out through the jaw he hadn't realized was clenching.

"Dude, calm down, it's just my mom. You'll be fine!" Dean insists with a hard pat to his back.

Next thing he knows he's being led away from the comfort of his tomato bins and into an isle full of boxed rice and pasta. Near the center of the isle stands a woman and an eco-green shopping cart. She's shorter than Dean, and middle aged, with long blond hair, and narrow hands turning over what looks to be a box of elbow macaroni.

"EH! MA!" Dean squalls, and the woman looks up from the box, veers to them with eyes so kind he can feel their warmth from where he's being dragged down the isle.

"Dean..." she says suspiciously, eying her son and the ruffled boy next to him.

When they stop Dean takes a readying breath then extends an arm over to Castiel, "Mom, this is my friend Cas."

Mary's face brightens, and her friendly smile is directed at Castiel who's voice and ability to speak are stuck halfway down his throat.

"Ah, Cas. I've heard much about you," her voice sounds mocking, but accommodating. It reminds him little of Dean, but softer.

"Yeah!" Dean beams, and claps his hand down between Cas' shoulder blades making him flinch, "He's the one who jumped out of our window!"

Castiel blushes again, and Mary's eyebrows raise. She doesn't look nearly as impressed as Dean sounds.

"Nice to meet you," Mary says with a shake of her head, and extends a hand towards Castiel.

He eyes it wearily, and bites his lip. Dean's staring at him with that usual goofy smile of his, and Mary is standing patient, waiting for him. He meets her grip and shakes as firmly as he can muster.

"Sorry. M-my hands are sweaty," is his first contribution to the conversation. He pulls his hand away, and wipes it against his baggy jeans.

"That's Cas for; it's nice to meet you too," Dean explains. Castiel shoves him in the side, and Dean barks a laugh as he wobbles on his feet, barely manages not to knock down the stacks of linguine behind him. 

"It's nice to meet you too," Castiel finally mutters with averted eyes while Dean straightens himself. Mary smiles gently at him, "Sorry for disturbing you."

"Don't be silly, hon. I've been aching to meet you for days now, all the hype Dean makes of you," she says with a laugh. When Castiel glances over to Dean he doesn't look at all embarrassed. Just grins like a proud mother hen, an animal that Dean shares a surprising amount of qualities with. 

"Oh," is all Castiel can manage in response. He doesn't know where to keep his eyes. Wants to stare at Dean, but thinks that would be awkward. Doesn't want to freak Mary out with the intense gaze that everyone's always telling him he has. 

"Castiel!"

He can't help the rigid scowl that crosses his face as he hears his mother's voice calling out from behind him, and Dean looks like he just stepped into something slimy. Mary seems to notice, because her brows furrow in concern. Castiel turns around, movements slow with dread, in time to see his mother striding across the linoleum tile of the floor.

"There you are! I told you not to go anywhere by yourself!" She patronizes, talking to him like he's eight years old again. His embarrassment rises, and his fingers twitch at his sides. Her eyes skip to Mary, then lock on Dean, "...You were at my house."

"Uh, yes ma'am," Dean clears his throat, "I'm a friend of Cas'."

His mother's eyes widen the slightest bit at the word 'friend'.

"Dean Winchester," he clarifies, and bounces uncomfortably on his heals. Sneaks a nervous glance to Cas, who's looking anywhere, but at him.

"And I'm Dean's mom," Mary's smile is the only constant, she places a hand to her son's shoulder, "Mary."

Caught off guard as she is, his mother manages to maintain her manners, "Naomi Milton."

"They live in the Campbell house," Castiel mutters loud enough for everyone to hear, but he's staring at his shoes. Their caked with mud, and the tips are stained green from walking through grass.

His mother's back straightens at the mention of the house, her voice is tight when she speaks, "Oh. Well. It was very nice to meet you both, but we have to get going."

"Right, of course," Mary nods.

"Let's go Castiel," his mother says, pivoting around clinking away.

As he retreats after his mother, he sneaks one more look at the Winchester's, catching them exchanging aghast looks.

....

He's on his bedroom floor, laying stomach down, arms out stretched on either side of him, with his face buried in the stack of pillows he'd pulled from both his and Anna's beds. It's some time in the afternoon, and he's been trying to fall asleep for the at least an hour already. The ibuprofen had worn out several hours ago, plunging him into another head ache and day-after soreness. This resulted in a grumpier mood, and a bitter Anna sending him off to bed after he snapped at her for asking something about therapy. Castiel complied begrudgingly because he _could_ use a nap, but stole away her pillows anyway in some form of retaliation.

The truth is however, no matter how much he tosses and turns, in any position, on every surface of his room (mostly including the bed and the floor), Castile can't make himself sleep. Insomnia happenes to him occasionally. In fact, it started years before the voices even surfaced. All the doctors he'd ever gone to assured it as a symptom to his illness. Sometimes he wonders why they'd never caught it before.

When he'd been a child it hadn't been that bad. Sure, it made him sleepier during the day, and he would sporadically feel an irrational fear of night that every child felt, but a lot of the time it could be a pleasant experience. More times than not, he would stumble from his bedroom, into the living room to find his father up as well. He'd be wearing his sleep clothes and reading glasses, and there would be bags under his eyes. He'd be sinking into a couch with a classical book cracked open on his lap. Castiel would climb up with him, then they would curl together, his father would start reading out loud, in a hushed low tone, to avoid waking the rest of the family.

But times were different now. Functioning without sleep became harder, nights awake became lonely, and the irrational fear of night got even stronger. Even during the day time, like now, insomnia was a nuisance. He sighs and flips to his back, folds his arms inward so that his hands lay over his chest.

He wonders what Dean is doing. He's always on his mind now. His eyes, his lips, his skin, peppered with those tiny freckles. How Castiel would love to kiss each one of them. He wonders about the noises Dean would make if it were to happen. How Dean's skin would taste on his tongue as it peaked out to trace the flesh of a shoulder or arm. Probably salty, still sweaty from a day in the sun playing baseball with Sam. Castiel feels a twitch in his underwear.

With eyes still closed, and a mind not quite thinking, one of his hands starts creeping down his stomach. Inching it's way down, shucking up his t-shirt, sending pulses through his skin. Fingers trace the waist band of his underwear, and he thinks about the way Dean would feel under his grip. Warm and solid, lean muscles taunt from anticipation. Course calloused fingers would play with strands of Castiel's hair. Another hand would reach down below, wrap tightly around his cock, and tug. Castiel's own hand imitated the thought, finally slipping below the elastic of his boxers.

Dean would kiss him as he worked. Let his tongue lead the way, and leave gentle nips across his face and neck. He would mutter in that deep voice of his, quiet, right into his ear, and say nothing of import. Tease him maybe, punctuating each word with a tight pull on his erection. Castiel let out a shuddery breath, and sped up the movement in underwear. He could almost feel Dean there with him, almost taste him, could imagine the exact way his eyes would glow as he stared at Castiel, taking pleasure in the way he came undone. He feels a tension in his stomach building, his breath coming out in gasps, and his fingers tighten. 

The door to his room flies open, simultaneous to his eyes, and Anna wanders in, oblivious for the first couple of moments, "Hey, Cas someone- Oh god!"

Everything moves at lightning speed. Castiel shoots up right, and yanks his hand from his shorts with a loud snap, the band slapping against his stomach. His cheeks burn brightly as he meets the wide eyed gaze of his sister, and awkwardly pulls a pillow (thankfully one of his own) to his lap sparing them both from any further humiliation. 

"I uh-" Castiel starts, looks away guilty, feeling so far past embarrassed he can barely think straight. Fingers curl into the pillow tightly as if it's a stress ball.

"Sorry!" Anna squeaks. Her cheeks are pink as well, and Castiel wants nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

"No, it's-"

"I should have knocked! Eh...." She fidgets, rubs her hands together awkwardly. Of course she didn't knock. She'd never had to knock before because he used to have more sense than that. Never used to masturbate in unlocked rooms, in the middle of the day, while people were around. Castiel doesn't know what else to say, just holds to the pillow even tighter, "Um... There's someone at the phone for you. I-I think it's Dean."

At the mention of Dean's name Castiel's cheeks turn even redder, and his throat goes dry.

"Right," he croaks, "I'll go talk to him. In a.. Moment."

"Yeah! Okay! Phone's- er- waiting for you... Down stairs.. I'm just gonna... Go now," with that she backs out of the room, and disappears down the hall.

He falls backward into his stack of pillows and shuts his eyes again. Rubs his face, and tries to get the heat in his skin away. Poor Anna. He'll never be able to look her in the eye again. He apprehends this new found recklessness. Something was happening to him and he didn't know what it was or how he could stop it. There was one thing he knew for certain, though. Dean Winchester was going to bring around his downfall.


	9. Friday Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there hasn't been an update anytime soon, I was gonna use school as an excuse but that has been over for quite some time now. I'm sorry to all the people who are actually interested in finding out what happens. Also, sorry about the abrupt ending, it's just that if I continued it here, this chapter would come out really long, and I don't have the energy for that. All this aside however, the fact that I've already started the next part means that I'll finish it faster, hence a new update will come soon.

Another week, eventful to the point of redundancy, comes and goes. He goes to school and bombs a math test then gets a ninety-five for a book report the next day. He tries to keep in mind that school will be over in approximately one month. He has two minor episodes, one on Monday during lunch, and one on Wednesday in the middle of the night. He thinks he'd scared Sam quite a bit while muttering nonsensical phrases under his breath and accidentally smearing peanut butter all over himself.

The call for him on the home line that had caused the incredibly uncomfortable exchange with Anna turned out to be from Al and not Dean, as his sister had suspected. How she confused the two he had no idea, but once he'd determined that the caller wasn't friendly he ended it as abruptly as possible. Al hadn't wanted anything important anyway, just poking fun, or whatever lame term bullies used to cover up their bigotry.

On a similar and highly more embarrassing note, Anna had pulled him aside after school one day and demanded they talk about what happened.

"I did a bit of thinking," she started, and he was blushing before she could even finish the thought, "I've decided it's a good thing that you're doing what I caught you doing."

He did his fair share of spluttering before answering, "How in the world did you come to that conclusion?"

"Well it's just... That, is a very normal thing for a teenager to do, and in a gross way, it's kind of assuring," she explained with a tiny shrug.

Castiel closed his eye and breathed a sigh, "Leave it to you to find comfort in my poorly timed masturbation."

"I won't if you put it like that!"

And that was about the extent of the conversation, thank God or whatever celestial thing in charge of awkward family exchanges.

He hangs out with Dean throughout the week when he's not too busy with school, and Dean's not too busy with whatever it is he gets up to in the day. It's never planned though which is magical in its own way, and it kind of captivates Castiel how they always seem to sense when the other is bored. He likes their unscheduled meet ups at Piss Creek, and bike rides around the neighborhood, on the other hand he's not exactly upset when Dean actually invites him somewhere. He wants to go out on Friday. Castiel's confused, and the idea of 'going out' is disgruntling in the least, but even more off putting is the way Dean acts, all reserved and hesitant. It's odd, but he agrees anyway, because who is he to deny Dean Winchester anything?

He tells Gabriel right before leaving, around six pm, because Anna's out with Balthazar and he's not sure his mother would let him go if he were to ask her. Gabriel's still grounded because of the stunt pulled the previous week at the party, so he's guaranteed to be around to sooth their mother when she realizes Castiel is gone. Plus, being caged in the house has really smothered his abilities to reek havoc, so anything, even something as simple as that, would keep him satisfied. The sleek black car Dean drives is parked just outside the curb of the drive way. Castiel speeds down the walk and slides across the pale leather seats to the passenger side, he lets his fingers trail behind and pet the material as he moves. It's nice and cold beneath his skin.

"So, where are we going?" he's almost afraid to ask, but does anyway when they're zooming down a highway and the motor is purring quietly underneath them. The only thing filling the unquestionably awkward silence.

Dean pokes the tip his tongue out of the side of his mouth and whirls it around uncomfortably, "We're getting ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Castiel frowns because it's somewhat of an unusual form of entertainment, especially for a person as butch as Dean pretends to be.

"Yeah, ice cream, you know. Frozen, delicious, dairy, usually found in an ice cream shop."

"Yes, thank you, I know what ice cream is," Castiel quips with an eye roll. He thinks he's only just recently picked up the habit. Dean's only response is a curt nod so Castiel keeps prodding, "Are ice cream shops typically the places where 'pretty young things' hang out?"

And Dean actually laughs at that so he knows things aren't too bad.

"We're not going to get pretty young things, Cas," Dean says, glancing shortly to his side of the car with a smile.

"Then what are we doing?"

There's a pause, and Dean suddenly looks extremely nervous again.

"I want you to meet a couple of my friends."

....

Deans friends turn out to be a young woman named Lisa, and her little boy named Ben. They both have dark hair and dark eyes and kind smiles. Ben looks to be about four years old, he's not sure how old Lisa is. She doesn't seem like that much of their senior, but she looks older than Dean and Dean is eighteen (he told Castiel several weeks ago when drinking at their spot).

They're all sitting at a table outside the shop eating their respective ice creams, making idol conversation. Lucky for Castiel, Ben is an extremely talkative character so he saves them from any unnecessary silences and questions. Regardless, he can't help feeling a bit out of place, watching the three of them interact. Dean and Lisa have a certain dynamic about them that isn't exactly romantic, but more like comfortable. However, sometimes their eyes meet for a little too long, or they'll smile at each other in a way that makes Castiel's gut clench. Lisa has a very 'mom-like' control over Ben, which is natural all things considered, but there's something more to question about Dean's reprimand at Ben's whining over the size of his ice cream, or the way he'd scooped him into his arms the second they walked through the doors, happily swinging him around in a circle.

"Let's go look at the fountains!" Ben chirped, he'd made short work of his birthday cake flavored ice cream, which had more visual appeal than that of taste. Most of it ended up in a liquid blob underneath their table anyway.

"Honey, we're all still eating," Lisa said as a way of denial then licked up the side of her own cone.

"That's alright," Dean handed off his ice cream to Castiel, who took it wordlessly, "I'll go with you buddy."

"Yeah! Dean you're awesome!" And with that the two of them took off across the plaza where several glowing fountains protruded from artfully layered cobblestone.

Castiel snuck a side glance at Lisa, who was staring off after them wearing a fond smile. He sank uneasily into his chair with an ice cream cone in either hand. Apparently Lisa was more aware of him than he'd thought because she turns to him, laughs before taking Dean's ice cream and lays it on a napkin. What's left of the double chocolate filling trickles out on to the white. Castiel holds eye contact with her for a few terse seconds before glancing away. He bites his lip anxiously.

"You know, Cas, I know it's intimidating to meet new people, but I swear I'm not gonna bite you," Lisa says.

"I know," his voice is bland and gravely when he answers. It sounds weird coming after Lisa's smoother higher one, so he takes an impulsive bite of ice cream. The cold stings his teeth, and his face crumples into a pained grimace. This makes Lisa laugh. 

There's another small silence, and Castiel feels like it's his duty to break it, he thinks back to Doctor Mills and her many different tips on small talk.

"Um... How do you know Dean?"

Lisa turns away form where Dean and Ben are splashing around by the fountain, and smiles softly, "We met at a party."

"Oh," his mouth hung open as he tried to think of something else to say, but couldn't. They're both staring at the two of them now. Something is beautiful about Dean in the moment. His mouth wide open and curling as he calls half-hearted warnings to Ben who was splashing him profusely. His eyes shone with something warm, something deep, something he only ever had when talking about Sam.

"He's pretty good with Ben," Castiel stated, it was quiet and thoughtful, he hadn't even meant to voice it out loud, but Lisa heard and turned to give him a look.

"Yeah, he is."

....

"Cas.."

"Caa-aas..."

"Hey, buddy?"

Castiel blinked his eyes open, aware of little but his urge to fall back asleep and the heavy weight sitting on top of him. As the sleepy blur cleared from his gaze, a familiar pair of green eyes faded into view.

"...Dean?" he muttered groggily.

"That's right it's me," the pair of eyes bobbed as Dean nodded.

"What time is it?" he all but moaned.

Dean grinned deviously, "Twelvish."

"In the morning?"

A chuckle, "Yes."

"How did you get into my room?"

"A window was open."

"We're on the second floor."

Dean full on laughed this time, "That didn't stop you from climbing into my house a year ago."

Castiel was beginning to think Dean was intoxicated. He tried to sit up, but the weight over his torso kept him pinned down.

"Are you sitting on top of me?"

"Yes."

Castiel sighed, "Not that I'm not pleased to see you Dean, but was there something specific you wanted?

"Yes, we're going to a party," Dean stated, and before Castiel could object he was being yanked from the warm covers of his bed, and into the pair of pants that Dean shoved into his hands. He followed Dean out the window of his room, wearing a pair of grey slacks and the same stretched navy t-shirt he'd been sleeping in, but no shoes because that would require going downstairs and possibly disturbing his mother.

"Where are we going anyway?" Castiel asked when they were sitting in the Impala, and Dean was whipping her through the narrow streets of their neighborhood more reckless than usual. He was turned away from Dean, forcing himself to stare out the window instead of at his friend like he truly wanted to.

"Ruby's party!" Dean shouted over excitedly, he was definitely at least a little tipsy. Castiel briefly wondered if he was safe to be driving, "Remember? Lisa invited us!"

"No," he answered, because he was sure that Lisa hadn't mentioned any party, meaning she'd told Dean privately, meaning Castiel wasn't actually invited, meaning he probably wasn't wanted there by anyone other than Dean, "Who's Ruby?"

"She's a friend... Well sort of. Her cousin's back in town or something, we're welcoming her home," Dean glanced away from the rode for a moment to wiggle his eyebrow and give Castiel a skeevy smile.

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed at the thoughts inspired by Dean's implications, "I don't want to 'welcome her home' I want to sleep."

Dean sighed, "Come on Cas! It's 12 am on a Saturday. Do you want to stay a virgin forever or something?"

Castiel's eyes widened the slightest bit, and he felt color rising in his cheeks. Sinking in his seat he remained silent, staring out the window again he tried not to think about all the different ways he would love to loose his virginity, but not at all with the cousin of this Ruby character.

Dean huffed an irritated sigh, misinterpreting Castiel's silence. However his generally jubilant mood didn't keep him annoyed for long. In less than a minute he was perky again singing along tunelessly to the radio at an obnoxious, yet simultaneously endearing volume.

...

As it turned out Ruby's house wasn't all that grand or big, but neither was the party. The 'house' was actually a second floor corner apartment in a three story building. The only indication of activity were the beaming yellow lights fading through a grey balcony door, and the occasional shout of laughter.

Dean led the way up the outdoor stairwell and down the hallways lined only by a flimsy metal railing. Castiel marched dutifully after him with a creased facial expression. He wasn't sure what it was about Dean that made him like this. A year ago he never would have found himself in this situation. None the less he almost feels indifferent about the whole matter, that is as long as Dean continued to accompany him.

Regardless, his stomach clenched in anticipation when Dean raised his hand to knock on the door. Three heavy knocks with his tightened fist, Castiel flinched each time his knuckles beat against the cheep wood of the apartment entrance. However the nerves dissipated to shocked confusion when the door swung open. There, leaning casually against the door frame, with that familiar flippant smile on her glossed lips, was- "Meg?"

Her eyebrows rose though the rest of her face remained slack, but the pleasure in her eyes was clear at the recognition, "Well looky here, what brings you here, Clarence?"

"Dean wanted to come to the party," he motioned to the almost startled looking Dean. He hadn't been aware that Castiel had any acquaintances outside of the ones thrust on him by his family. Something about Meg told him she wasn't a family friend, "This is him. He's my friend."

Meg looked him up and down with a predatory eye. "Not bad, Clarence. Good for you," she drawled approvingly. 

"You Ruby's cousin then?" Dean asked unfazed, and most likely oblivious.

"That's me. Why don't you boys come in, we've been dying for a bit of testosterone," she gave them both a dark smile before twisting back into the apartment.

With his hands shoved into his pockets Castiel followed his two friends inside. The apartment was just as small as it looked on the outside. It was a loft with a small kitchen area in the corner and peeling wall paper plastered to a brick outline. The furniture was sparse, limited to a small kitchen table, several lamps, and a folded up futon. The other three guests of the party were sat on the floor, all young women, one of them being Lisa.

"Cassie and Dean, everyone," Meg announced monotonously as they wandered in. Then as a side note she added, "But don't call him Cassie, 'cause he gets hissie when you do that."

"Heh, Hissie Cassie," one of the unknown girls, straightened dark hair, narrow face, and olive skin, chortled from her slumped position against the wall. She had a very boneless look to her, and her eyes drooped. Castiel, while not the most outgoing teenager, had enough medical experience to recognize when a person was under the influence. This girl, or woman, or whatever she was, was most definitely tripping some sort of balls.

"Don't worry, it's nothing official, just weed. Madison sticks to the soft stuff," Meg, seeing his apprehensive facial expression, swung a comfortable arm around his shoulders, pulling him away form Dean and over to the crowd. Despite his familiarity with Meg, he tensed at her touch, and he didn't very much enjoy being away from Dean. Luckily he followed right after them, though he chose to sit next to Lisa who was on the opposite end of the circle.

"Ladies," Dean greeted with a nod, and they all accepted it with varying degree of amusement, for instance the girl that Castiel assumed was Ruby (since she was the only one left) just rolled her eyes. He turned towards Meg then, "How do you know Cas?"

While Castiel stared, externally blank, at the wall across from him, a mischievous smirk stretched across Meg's face, "We were buddies in the rec room, weren't we Clarence?"

The nudge of her sharp elbow in his side startled him from his thoughts and he found himself nodding though he wasn't sure what at. 

"Great," the assumed Ruby groaned, but it wasn't as bitter as it could have been, "Now I've got two crack pots in my house."

"Shut up, Tit-Face, you know our kind liven up the party," Meg responded lazily, and leaned back to reach for the beers stacked by the wall. She handed one to Dean and then Castiel before taking one for herself. Beside his better judgment Castiel found himself cracking it open and gulping down his fair share, ignoring the subdued apprehension on Dean's side of the circle.

"So how did you escape?" Castiel blurted thoughtlessly, and all the girls exchanged dubious looks before bursting into laughter.

"They let me out, asshole," Meg chuckled, initiating more physical contact with a shove in his shoulder. The discomfort he'd felt while arriving was rising at a marginal speed, "No escape was necessary."

He took another sip of the beer in his hand, "What about Crowley?"

Meg shook her head, "As far as I'm concerned that dick's gonna be in there for the rest of his life. You know, when you left he mixed peanuts in Garth's lunch," Garth had a severe allergy, "I think he misses you."

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, and spared a look in Dean's direction. If he was listening it wasn't fully, he was too busy staring at Lisa.

"Anyway, since we're all here, I say we move this party along," Ruby stated with a commanding edge to her voice.


	10. Puking is Disgusting

The party is lazy, but Castiel doesn't mind, mostly because Dean's not making out with Bela Talbot. Castiel had, had enough alcohol on Friday, yet stupidly he's drunk again, he suspects this is because while he's not making out with anyone, Dean's choosing to spend the night on the floor whispering with Lisa, instead of with him. Regardless he blames Meg for his inebriated state because as the night progressed she had handed him drink after drink, and he could do nothing to dissuade her from giving him more. He's leaning against a corner now, mostly just staring off into the distance, blinking in response to the buzzed voice that started whispering at him somewhere around the fifth drink. Occasionally, his eyes focus on the other occupants of the room, but they never stray long, mostly because they're all too intimidating to look at.

Madison, though on the friendlier side, would not stop calling him Cassie, and Meg was right, it did erk him. He supposes that doesn't matter now, because Madison is already passed out, flopped diagonally across the futon where she'd been sleeping soundly for the last hour and a half. Ruby had turned on a boom box near the beginning of the night, and was now standing in the center of the room, high off something, he's not sure what specifically, and dancing with her self. It's captivating to watch when he allows himself a glance, her dark hair swishing in curls down the expanse of her back. She holds her hands over her head, and convulses in artful waves to the misty music playing next to her. Meg's spent most of the night next to him, feeding him alcohol, and catching him up on all the Cloudy Fall's drama that he doesn't care for. She only recently went away to do something in the kitchen. Probably fixing him another drink. The thought makes him sick, he's actually surprised he hasn't thrown up yet, but perhaps he's building up a tolerance.

His eyes skitter over in zig-zag lines, and he finds them trained on Dean and Lisa again. They're sitting uncomfortably close together it's true, with Lisa's legs thrown over Dean's and her hand patting soothing strokes up his arm, but at the same time, that comfortable feeling still radiates from them. He doesn't feel the same vibes from Dean as he had when he'd been with Bela, and he thinks these might be even worse. Dean's staring at her weird, and that's what makes Castiel concerned. Sometimes that exchanged shimmer in their eyes actually makes Castiel wish Dean were back with Bela.

"So you never told me," a body that he registers as Meg's plops down next to him, her voice is low so it doesn't carry far away from them, "Where'd you pick up this new boy toy of yours?"

"He lives in my neighborhood," Castiel grumbles sourly. Meg seems amused because she's chuckling in his ear, and he squints his eyes at her, "And he's not my boy toy," there's a childish tint to his voice, but he doesn't care because he's drunk and assumes the attribute is acceptable for his condition.

"Sure he isn't," Meg sighs.

"He's not. He doesn't even like boys," he defends, nodding his head in Dean's direction, where he is quite clearly occupied with a female.

"So what? You like him, don't you?"

After a moment of hesitation he finds himself nodding, and Meg grins in what he supposes should be friendship, but it only manages to look malicious.

"Then does the rest really even matter?"

Castiel turns on her with wide eyes, and he wonders if Meg ever had issues with consent because those words are... startling. He doesn't voice this concern of course, but clearly it's written all over his face since Meg's brushing him of with a scoff and a shake of her head.

"Not what I meant," she promises, but he jumps when a roughly manicured hand lands on his inner thigh and she's leaning in to whisper something in his ear, "I'm thinking more along the lines of, making him, want you."

"H-How?" Castiel shifts. His muscle twitches under the stroke of her thumb, making him suck in a shallow breath.

"Now, if this is gonna work, you gotta promise not to freak out on me. Understand that this," her grip tightens, "Is okay. That I'm not gonna hurt you."

His head is swimming and he closes his eyes. Replaces Meg's hand with a larger, tanner one, lined in callouses from working. It's not ideal, but better. Huffs a breath steadier than the last one.

"Atta boy, Clarence," Meg murmurs, and then her hand moves, twines with his, and she's pushing up to stand, pulling him along with her.

Ruby only smirks when they come to stand next to her, continues her flowing movements without a second glance. Meg smiles back, locks her arms around Castiel's neck as he stands awkward and rigid underneath her. The music thumps in low continuous beats. The close press of her swaying body rocks him by extension though the movement remains minimal on his part.

Her lips are bright red, smirking. Movements graceful, not unlike Ruby's, making him feel surprisingly less threatened than he'd have suspected to feel. It's almost nice when one of her crossed hands starts pulling on the strands of hair growing against the base of his neck. He'd never realized how small Meg was until now. Her personality painting her into a thing much larger than she actually was. Now pressed against him she felt tiny, and soft, and feminine. His eyebrows furrow.

"You know, if you look at me like your constipated it's gonna be hard to make him jealous," she purrs into his ear, pressing up even closer to reach it.

Castiel blinks at her. He hadn't realized that, that was what they were doing.

"Look," Meg breaths, sliding a hand along the length of his back making him shiver, "Just close your eyes, and do what's natural. We'll have his attention in no time. Promise."

Following her commands, Castiel allows his eyelids to shut, again let his over active imagination take control. The soft body against him turns solid, a pair of bright green eyes spark at him through darkness. The hands on his back and neck hold him as tight as he wants them to, fingernails dig bluntly at him. A tiny sigh escapes his lips, and his own hands move to catch Meg around the waste.

"That's it," she coxes, the body rolling into him, making him tremble again.

Subconscious thought guides him onward. He cranes his neck, brushing his chin against the side of her face, soft curls tickling the uneven stubble growing on his skin. The body in his head and the body leaning against his rock forward together. He feels a surge of pleasure vibrate through him. Shivers again. Hears a tiny pleasure filled noise brush against his earlobe, and a hand rakes down his chest, a sound builds in his throat.

It never surfaces. Instead he feels another hand tighten around the stretched collar of his t-shirt, and he get's yanked back. His eyes fly open. The first thing he sees is Meg, smirking victoriously.

The first thing he hears is Dean. He sounds angry, and it makes him want to cower.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He spits at Meg who's just standing there, glistening. Dean's beautiful face, is wrinkled in anger, and the fist not clutching at Castiel's shirt is in a tight knot.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Meg fires back, but her voice is marginally calmer.

"What's wrong with you?! How could you do- He's just a kid! He's drunk! You don't take advantage of drunk kids!" Dean continues to shout. Castiel parts his lips, wants to say something, but can't think of anything appropriate. Still doesn't really understand what's going on, and all of Dean's previous self assured phrases about getting laid are contradicting themselves. He chances a glance around the room. Lisa looks as bewildered as he feels. Ruby's stopped dancing, but her face is bored, as if she's watching a re-run of her least favorite TV program.

"Last time I checked we're all drunk, princess. And also this 'kid' is only a couple years younger than you are," Meg responds easily. She looks past Dean, and locks eyes with Castiel, shooting him a meaningful raised eyebrow.

"Shut the-" Dean wrinkles his nose in distaste, "You don't know how old I am!"

"Hey, Dumb Ass," Ruby calls suddenly and everyone turns to her in surprise. When all the attention is trained on her, she continues talking in a dead pan, "How about you ask your boy what he wants before you start jumping to any conclusions. If you ask me he seems like a... more than eager participant."

The suggestive tone to Ruby's words make Castiel panic, and he realizes with a start that the tense spring like feeling in his stomach reflects his budding arousal. The more he thinks about it, the more he notices the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. As Dean turns to look him over, intense gaze inadvertently slipping by his crotch, Castiel wishes to wake up from the nightmare that his life had become since his father's absence.

"Well," Dean says, and it looks like he's still angry, but can't quite figure out what at.

"Dean, it's not-"

"Like that," Meg cuts him off, and smiles, "Just reacquainting myself with an old friend."

"Right," Dean grunts then abruptly pivots back towards Lisa. Meg keeps giving Castiel that look, but he's to busy feeling confused to notice, "Whatever."

"Dean," he whispers, staring at his retreating back, but can't say anything else when Dean spares him a last glance over his shoulder. His head's spinning to fast, and instead of answering he lowers himself to the floor and tries to ground himself.

It's only when the vomit forces its way out of his throat and onto Ruby's scratchy grey carpet does he remember the nausea he's felt earlier. It's Meg at his side then, rubbing her hand in circles on his back as he spits his drinks back up. No one else seems to notice, or care, so he lets her drag him back against the wall.

"Mission accomplished," she says finally and all he can do is nod, even though he has no idea what she's talking about. He still feels sick as fuck.

....

He doesn't recall loosing consciousnesses at any point in the night, but there comes a moment later, and from the pulsing aches in his back he can tell it's a long later, that he opens his eyes dazedly and realizes that's he's stretched across the floor and he'd been asleep. It takes him a moment to notice the voices murmuring in the background, and an even longer moment to realize the voices are real. He recognizes the low grumble of Dean's voice, and the soothing purr of Meg's. The music and lights are turned off, he can't see them or anyone else for that matter, but they're speaking quietly, so Castiel has to reason that they're the only ones awake.

He closes his eyes again, but doesn't try to fall asleep. Instead he listens

"He's a big boy, you know. Can take care of himself," Meg is saying. The more he listens, the easier it is to distinguish individual words from their soft muttering. It only takes him a second to realize who she's talking about, "Make his own decisions even."

"I know," is Dean's flat response. He sounds guarded, and Castiel is glad he's never talked to him like that.

"Do you?" Meg throws the challenge back at him just as rough.

"Yeah, I-... I don't know."

Castiel does his best to stay still. He wants to hear. These are the thoughts Dean would never tell him, and he's been dying to know since they first met.

"I like to think that way. Hell, I'm pretty sure I even believed it at one point, but lately... I've seen him do shit, or he'll say something, and it's like he doesn't even know himself."

Meg's unimpressed, "Big whoop. He's a diagnosed schizophrenic, what did you expect he'd be like?"

There's a pause.

"You know, you're starting to contradict yourself," When he talks, his voice is as dry as it had been before.

Meg chortles though her nose. The sound is so familiar he almost smiles, but doesn't because it seems like even the tiniest movement will give away, and he wants to hear.

"Look, Hot shot. The thing is, he's a human, and until people start treating him like one, he's not gonna do it himself. That's just how guys like him work," There's another pause before she's talking again, "but God knows he ain't like the rest of us."

"There you go contradicting yourself again," he sounds more resigned this time.

"Shut up. What I mean is... He still... Tries. I've never met a loon like him before. We all think ourselves as done for, even when we're out of the bin, but dammit, he still tries no matter what." 

There's a sound of ruffling clothing, "Why?"

"Fuck if I know. Maybe he thinks he owes someone. Maybe he actually thinks he'll get better. All I know is it's infectious. When he's around I never want to let him go."

There's a longer, even quieter break. He thinks it's never been this silent before. Even at Cloudy Falls where silence was defining. For a second he wonders if he's still there and all this had been a dream, but then Dean speaks again.

"You don't think he'll get better?" He's never heard Dean's voice so quiet before, but in the silence of the apartment it's louder than any bullhorn.

"There's never been a documented case of one of us getting cured," she starts, then stops, then continues, "But hell, if any one could do it. It'd be Castiel."


End file.
